


Star Trek: Wings of the Renaissance

by AndrewJTalon



Category: Star Trek - Various Authors, Star Trek Online, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Anime References, F/M, Fighter Pilots, Influenced by Ace Combat, Inspired by Ace Combat, Jolly Rogers Squadron, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Space Battles, Space Opera, ace pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrewJTalon/pseuds/AndrewJTalon
Summary: Follow a group of Starfleet officers in a service regarded as obsolete, in a secondary assignment, go from misfits... To legends.Takes influence from Ace Combat among other sources.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

_Star Trek: 477th Squadron  
  
A Star Trek fanfiction by Andrew Joshua Talon  
_  
DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan-based work of prose. Star Trek is the property of CBS and Paramount. Please support the official release.  
  
 _I decided that if I'm writing snippets for this little ficverse of mine, I should put them in the proper place. So please enjoy this first attempt at a semi-serious Trekfic by me. Starting with an introduction to the commander._  
  
\- - -  
  
 _  
Outpost 444, Valo II, Bajoran Sector  
  
  
2370_  
  
  
The planet was 'habitable' in the way a hot coffin might be considered a home. Underneath the burning yellow sun and its smaller, red companion, the desert winds of Valo II were kicked up to spread massive sandstorms. Even here in the northern reaches, where the world's small oceans with their bounty of algae kept the air breathable, it felt like a furnace.  
  
  
Ther'in Shran, commander in Starfleet, bore the heat better than an Andorian should-His world was defined by the cold and the ice, kept warm partly by its sun and more by the gas giant it orbited tugging on the core. The heat of a sun was almost novel to them. Yet the tundra too was a desert, just of a different sort. And Andorians could deal with the harshest environments. It is why they became dominant on their world.  
  
  
Yet rather than aspects of evolution and biology, Shran was considering the shapes in the oncoming storm-How the wind and air pressure pitched the dust and dirt into strange patterns across its front. He found his eyes tracing them, a faint smile on his lips as he almost leaned against the open hangar door to admire nature's fury. His helmet was snug and secure in his right arm, cradled like a newborn child, as he watched the outdoors.  
  
  
"Commander?"  
  
  
He didn't turn from his view. "Yes Ensign Yuy?"  
  
  
He heard the young man shuffle his feet, nervous. "The Flight Plan has been processed, we're good to go."  
  
  
Shran nodded. He turned his eyes away from the storm-He would see it again, soon enough. "Good. Let's see how you did on the visual inspection."  
  
  
He strode across the hanger bay, long legs making Yuy struggle to keep up. He was a young human, out of the Martian colonies, ruddy faced with jet black hair and narrow, almond shaped eyes. A new recruit, still nervous around anyone outranking him or indeed, almost anyone else.  
  
  
The hanger bay contained a number of fighters-Several lined up on the opposing wall were being tended by maintenance crews and checked out by their pilots. The great chamber echoed faintly from their activity, beeps and soft conversation and a bang from a tool forming a modest background. Their fighter was out, resting on power carts and struts. Shran walked around the vessel, experienced eyes sweeping the craft.  
  
  
"Tell me the technical specifications," he ordered his ensign. Yuy looked about as enthused as anyone else would be at this, but got on with it quickly.  
  
  
"AC-104 Peregrine-class courier-er, attack fighter," he recited. "14 meters long, mass 27 metric tons, armed with 3 type IV phaser banks, two microphoton torpedo tubes with 10 rounds each, cruise speed warp factor 4, maximum speed warp factor 6-"  
  
  
"Enough," Shran ordered, and the ensign stopped in a verbal stumble. He nodded. "The basics, yes. Always decent to have if you're a ten year old boy muttering trivia. What do you know about flying her?"  
  
  
"Uh... I did simulator training and the Academy training craft, sir," Yuy replied. Shran nodded, smiling. Yuy didn't return the smile. Good. It meant he had some inclination of what was to come.  
  
  
"Then let's call that lesson one."  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
The Peregrine usually had its crew compartments arranged laterally-The pilot and co-pilot sat next to one another. The option to arrange them linearly, with the pilots in a line towards the nose, was an option but rarely used by Starfleet pilots used to shuttlecraft and larger vessels. Shran preferred the linear mode-It prevented bumping your elbow against your co-pilot and gave you a better view. So he sat in the backseat, running through the pre-flight checks while Yuy acknowledged each one on the checklist. The little fighter began to warm up and rumble as the warpcore was brought online, and the antigravs hummed underneath them.  
  
  
"And plasma injectors are green," Yuy finished, his voice muffled by his helmet over the comms, tapping the last few buttons to confirm. His hands rested on the console, and Shran could tell the ensign was glancing at the manual controls with more than a little trepidation.  
  
  
"Something wrong, Ensign?" Shran asked.  
  
  
"W-Well, sir... Uh... I've never used... The ships I had before didn't have... Joysticks," Yuy explained. "I know it was an option, but everyone else-"  
  
  
"Everyone else in Starfleet handles ships that practically fly themselves," Shran stated simply. "This one is little different, but," and here he activated the thrusters, gently lifting the Peregrine off the gurneys and onto its antigravs, "our job requires us to feel the ship more organically."  
  
  
The Peregrine taxied out of the hanger, onto the thermacrete runway. Large markings in paints were drawn all over it, indicating parking and landing areas. The holographic heads up display turned green, and offered arrows to point in the proper direction of travel. Shran maneuvered the fighter towards the proper runway, obeying the directions. Yuy shook his head again.  
  
  
"It seems so... Er..."  
  
  
"Old fashioned?" Shran asked. Yuy nodded.  
  
  
"Sir," he replied. Shran chuckled.  
  
  
"It's still Starfleet, Ensign," he emphasized. "We just do things a bit differently."  
  
  
The HUD turned all green, and the comms channel beeped. Yuy checked it, and nodded.  
  
  
"We are clear for take off... Uh, sir? One other thing?"  
  
  
"Yes?" Shran asked, spooling up the thrusters to full power.  
  
  
"Is there a reason the inertial dampeners are set to..." He nearly choked. "M-Minimum levels?!"  
  
  
"Yes. Two very good ones, actually," Shran stated. "First, inertial dampeners lower the maneuverability of small starships. Keeping them on the minimum allows us to operate the ships to get every bit of performance we can out of them."  
  
  
The ensign audibly gulped. "And... The second?"  
  
  
Shran pushed the throttle to full. The thrusters roared behind them and the Peregrine lifted off-Very nearly straight up like the ancient rockets did. They ascended, screaming through the sandstorm and into the bright blue skies overhead, which soon parted for the vast darkness of space. And through it all, Shran had the ensign's screams filling his helmet.  
  
  
"If you're hollering that loudly over the thrusters, you're never going to last when I hit impulse," Shran laughed.  
  
  
It was always fun to break in the rooks.  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
 _  
Federation Starbase Deep Space Nine, Bajoran Sector  
  
  
2370  
_  
  
The bar was lively and noisy. Filled with the sounds and smells of beverages and food from dozens of worlds. The dabo wheel spun in the background, sapient beings from across the Quadrant hooting, cheering and gasping at every outcome. Soft music from the promenade faintly reached Shran’s ears, as he paused at the entrance to take in the atmosphere and look around. He felt a faint smile curve his lips, his antenna rising to scan around through the diverse cacophony of lifeforms. Turns out, he didn’t need to look long.  
  
  
“Commander!” A burly human with curly red hair in engineering gold stood up from his table, and waved at Shran. Shran’s smile grew into a grin, as he walked through the crowd in front of the bar to reach his friend. The man reached out to shake a hand… And Shran moved past it just to capture the human in a tight hug.  
  
  
“O’Brien! How many damned times do I have to tell you-”  
  
  
“I know, sir, I know,” Miles O’Brien laughed back, returning the hug with only a little awkwardness, “but I can’t just turn it off!”  
  
  
“You and your love of protocol,” Shran huffed, slapping O’Brien on the shoulder with friendly force. O’Brien returned it, grinning back.  
  
  
“I prefer to speak with actions, sir,” he replied. “After all, who owes who a bar of latinum?”  
  
  
“I paid that in full with interest, Miles. You just seem to keep forgeting it,” Shran retorted goodnaturedly, lightly elbowing the engineer. The Irishman scoffed, his grin unshaken.  
  
  
“Better than remembering it and denying it, sir,” he shot back, shoulder bumping Shran back. Shran threw his head back and laughed again, his antenna shaking in mirth.  
  
  
“Ah… Hem…” A soft voice broke awkwardly. Shran and O’Brien looked across the table. A tall, gangly human in medical blue was sitting there, smiling self consciously. O’Brien nodded and gestured across the table.  
  
  
“Commander Ther’in Shran, this is Doctor Julian Bashir. Chief Medical officer, Deep Space Nine. Julian, this is Commander Ther’in Shran: Old friend of mine. He commands the training base at Valo II that’s helping the Bajorans learn how to fly modern starships and the like.”  
  
  
“A pleasure,” Bashir said, reaching across the table for a handshake. Shran took it, shaking hard to the point Bashir almost winced. Still, he held on, which immediately improved the stand of the reedy human in Shran’s eyes.  
  
  
“Friend of O’Brien’s is a friend of mine,” Shran said decisively. He sat down, Miles following suit next to him. “What’s on tap?”  
  
  
“Vithi beer, properly cold,” Miles said. He raised up a hand. “Quark! Bring it out!”  
  
  
A Ferengi in a predictably eye scarring suit emerged from the bustle, holding a platter with three mugs covered in frost. He set it down with an oily smile.  
  
  
“I’m Quark. I own this establishment. Anything I can get you, please, don’t hesitate to ask,” he said. He added a bowl of peanuts to the center. “Enjoy!” He bowed, and went off to continue his work. Bashir hid a smile, as O’Brien sighed. Shran glanced over at his friend.  
  
  
“Polite, isn’t he?”  
  
  
“It’s refreshing. Less time you spend with him, the better,” Miles opined. Bashir took a sip of his beer-And immediately began coughing, some frosted foam left on his upper lip.Shran laughed.  
  
  
“New to Andorian beverages, Doctor?”  
  
  
“I-hack-I knew it was chilled, I didn’t know it was frozen,” Bashir hacked out. Miles laughed, as Shran held his own mug up.  
  
  
“Not quite. It’s below freezing, but the natural antifreeze keeps it liquid,” he explained. He drank it down, draining the mug in almost no time at all. He let out a breath of satisfaction, the concoction washing through him like a refreshing dip in a cold spring. “Haa… Not bad.”  
  
  
“It’s best to let it warm up a little first,” Miles advised Bashir, who had wiped his face with a napkin. Shran chuckled.  
  
  
“It’s best when it’s cold as possible, Chief!”  
  
  
“I like it just fine when my tongue’s not been turned to ice,” Miles replied with a grin. “Now a good stout, that’s heaven.”  
  
  
The two began debating various spirits they’d imbibed over the years, pros, cons, and embarrassing incidents that always make up drinking stories. Bashir mostly stayed quiet, trying not to seem like an upper class fop out of his element and nearly succeeding. It was silently decided between Miles and Shran to give the doctor a break, shifting over to personal backgrounds. Bashir eagerly took to the topic.  
  
  
“...Which is when I decided Deep Space Nine would be my first assignment. Which is where I met the Chief here,” Bashir concluded his tale, one beginning with university rather than the start of his life as Shran had feared. The doctor gave them a smile. “So! How did you and the Chief meet?”  
  
  
Shran let out a breath. It was easier when you knew the question was coming, after all.  
  
  
“Setlik III,” said someone else. Shran and Miles looked up at the speaker. Another familiar face-A tall, dark skinned human man in command red. Shran allowed himself a smile, one the speaker returned.  
  
  
“Hello Cal,” he said. Miles rose, a “sir” on his lips, but Calvin Hudson held out a hand.  
  
  
“At ease, Chief. It’s a bar, not a bridge,” he said. He pulled up a fourth chair, calling for a drink from the strangely eager Ferengi waiter. He ordered the same Vithi beer as the others, and let it sit to warm.  
  
  
“It’s been too long, Shran,” Cal said. Shran nodded.  
  
  
“It has been,” he replied. Miles was studiously looking into his own drink. At length, the chief looked up and gave Cal a sympathetic, understanding look.  
  
  
“I heard about your family, Commander. I’m sorry,” he said. Cal nodded back, and took a deep breath.  
  
  
“Well… That’s what my assignment is all about: Preventing that from happening… Again.” He looked back at O’Brien. “Have you heard from Captain Maxwell?”  
  
  
“He’s doing all right in the penal colony,” Miles said quietly. He managed a forced smile. “He’s been organizing the work, improved efficiency of the maintenance crews 130 percent.”  
  
  
Cal nodded back, an equally forced smile on his face. “Never could keep him down. I’ve heard he might be released early.”  
  
  
“That’s great to hear,” Miles said, his smile less brittle. Bashir looked about as uncomfortable a man could look, but was trying his hardest not to look it. Shran sighed heavily, taking pity on him.  
  
  
“Doctor, if you need to make your excuses-”  
  
  
“Oh, no! No, not at all! I just, well, I… Don’t know much. About the Cardassian Wars,” he admitted, an honest answer. “Much less… Setlik III…” His eyes widened. “This… This is the anniversary of it. Isn’t it?” He looked around. Shran and Miles slowly nodded, while Calvin Hudson looked grimmer than usual.  
  
  
“Yeah, it is,” Miles voiced the obvious.  
  
  
Bashir glanced at Calvin. The lieutenant commander shook his head.  
  
  
“I was an ensign on one of the relief ships, after…” He nodded to Shran. The Andorian took a deep breath, his antenna tensed as though looking for enemies.  
  
  
“I suppose it would be nice… To get the story straight,” Shran said, trying for humor and failing. He took another pull of his refilled mug, letting the cold burn of alcohol wash over his senses. He set the mug down, but didn’t let it go as his eyes focused hard somewhere else. O’Brien had the same far away look.  
  
  
“I was assigned to the Ibuki, a Curry-class carrier,” Shran said. “I was an ensign, a year out of flight school. We’d been doing routine operations: Disaster relief, planetary survey, a mapping expedition and anti-piracy patrol. Usual stuff. We’d gotten a few distress calls from ships, scared about the Cardies but they were all false alarms. Until this one…”  
  
  
\- - -  
 _  
  
USS Ikubi, Curry-class Escort Carrier, NCC-42551  
  
  
Setlik System  
  
  
2357_  
  
  
The Curry-class was a member of the vast Excelsior-class variant family, so the corridors and rooms all seemed to call back to the times of Kirk, Sulu, and the other legends of Starfleet. Shran couldn’t help thinking of how they must have felt, when they were newly minted ensigns, sitting in a mission briefing. Did they feel the same mix of fear and anticipation? Did they also sit up, trying not to look like a nervous Zabathu trapped in a pen? He didn’t know.  
  
  
His fellow pilots, most more experienced than him, were chattering away. Bustling and a bit rowdy. Frii’Kan Hshiu, a tall Betalgeusian, told a raunchy joke that left his Tellarite co-pilot, Agram, and his human wingman, Ivan Nikitovich, laughing hysterically. Selma Cronan, a human female senior survey pilot about to transfer out to a science ship in the Beta Quadrant, was rolling her eyes like the classmate who gets the joke but thinks its stupid. Hrwar Teton, a Caitian, was reviewing his PADD while his tail twitched in what might have been nerves. Eve Sharp, his senior human pilot with whom he flew their ship, was giving him an encouraging smile.  
  
  
“Ease up,” she mouthed. His antenna twitched, and he sat at attention.  
  
  
“Yessir,” he replied automatically. Her smile grew, and she reached out to bat his shoulder.  
  
  
“I mean really ease up,” she insisted. “You’ll give the Skipper a run for his money at this rate.”  
  
  
“Commander Turix is never stiff,” he replied instantly. Eve smirked, holding his gaze. Shran sank into the seat, trying to untense. Eve nodded.  
  
  
“Little better,” she admitted. She glanced at the doors, seeing them open. She stood up. “Skipper on deck!”  
  
  
The conversations and horseplay ended immediately, everyone on their feet and eyes up front. Commander Turix, a tall vulcan with a dark complexion, walked in. As usual for a briefing, he was in full flight gear-suit sealed up and ready, his helmet held by his side. He walked up to the front of the briefing room, and turned precisely to face them all. He nodded, his eyes sweeping the entire room’s complement.  
  
  
“At ease,” he ordered, and everyone sat down. “We have received a garbled distress call from the Setlik III colony. We are due to enter orbit of the colony in the next twenty-two minutes, thirty-three seconds.” Turix looked to his padd, and pressed a few buttons. The display screen behind him changed, showing a tactical plot of the system. “Long range sensors have verified the presence of Cardassian warp signatures, with large areas of subspace jamming. Concentrated at the L1 and L4 points around Setlik III and its two moons. Enemy force composition is unknown: Operations and the science section suggest the presence of two capital vessels and multiple support vessels, perhaps as many as ten. We do know that ground forces have landed-The distress call specified as much. Communications were lost seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds ago, passive data links were lost ten seconds later.” Turix looked up, his serene expression mildly tensed.  
  
  
“Based on previous encounters with the Cardassians at other border colonies, you can expect high usage of decoy probes and drones to conceal not just their numbers but to divide our fire. The Cardassians seldom engage our vessels without a numerical advantage, so the captain is already anticipating we will be outnumbered. The Miranda-class destroyer Gral has arrived and is accompanying us as escort: The New Orleans-class frigate Rutledge is enroute at maximum warp and will reach us two minutes, plus or minus thirty seconds after we arrive in high orbit over Setlik III. Our orders are to sweep the orbitals for enemy vessels and engage them, while providing overhead cover for relief forces to make their landings. Do not stray more than 300 thousand kilometers from the capital ships: Cardassians are reportedly good at ambushes. Challenge any vessel that enters the area:”  
  
  
His voice became… Somewhat softer. “Do not fire until you have visually identified them, as there may be Federation civilian vessels attempting to enter to render aid to the colony. We have already lost several citizens today: I do not want any more Federation casualties.”  
  
  
“Yessir,” the room replied, almost as one.  
  
  
Turix looked directly at Shran, and he sat up a lot straighter. “Ensign Shran, you will be my co-pilot for this mission.”  
  
  
Shran started, his jaw dropping. “Ah-Sir-That is-”  
  
  
“Lieutenant Raines is still in sickbay from the injuries sustained in the survey mission over Camus II. Lieutenant Sharp has recommended your skills to me and I have found your performance record satisfactory.”  
  
  
Shran nodded quickly. From the Commander, that was the Vulcan equivalent of high praise and he felt his nervousness ease off a bit. He found himself a bit annoyed by Eve’s smirk though.  
  
  
“Any questions?” Turix asked the room at large. There were none. “Dismissed.”  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, Shran was running through the final flight checks on Commander Turix’s own Peregrine-fighter, sitting in the middle of the large, through-deck hangar bay. He’d gone over everything at least three times, trying to divert his nerves into something productive. He looked up at the sound of a foot on the wing, and nodded in respect to the Vulcan commander.  
  
  
“Sir. The preflight checks are complete and the outside inspections are finished. We are ready to go,” he reported in as even a tone as he could. Turix nodded.  
  
  
“Good.” He glanced over Shran’s console, nodding again. “You completed the LCARS interface training, I see.”  
  
  
“Yes sir,” Shran said, smiling a bit. “I’m sorry if the interface isn’t quite what the regs asked, but-”  
  
  
“The regulations specify that the interface should be laid out for ease of use. You have done that to make yourself more efficient. Do not apologize,” Turix said, his monotone… A bit more gentle than usual? It was so difficult to tell with Vulcans. Shran nodded back.  
  
  
“Thank you sir.”  
  
  
Turix sat down in the front seat, fastening his helmet. “Comms check,” he said over the internal communications system.  
  
  
“Comms online, showing green,” Shran replied, as the canopy slowly closed, sealing shut with a comforting, mechanical thunk. Turix ran through his own checks, his own screens showing green. The Vulcan commander’s helmet inclined-Almost like a nod to himself.  
  
  
“Photon torpedoes?” Turix asked.  
  
  
“Six Type VI loaded. Safeties on,” Shran reported.  
  
  
“Good. Keep them locked until further notice-They’re too dangerous to let loose with allies in range,” Turix stated. Shran nodded, knowing the reason but repetition was the keystone of learning all this. Until it was made instinct, he wouldn’t be annoyed at being treated like the rookie he was.  
  
  
“Ibuki, this is Bunyip Squadron,” Turix spoke to the comms, “Sehlat reporting. Ready to launch.”  
  
  
“Bunyip squadron, you are cleared to launch. Launch when ready,” the operations officer replied. Ahead, the large clamshell hangar doors slowly parted, the forcefield keeping the atmosphere in glowing at the edges of the portal out into space. Ahead, they could see the blue white form of an M-class planet: Setlik III. And if Shran squinted slightly, he could see the outline of another Federation starship far ahead in a lower orbit.  
  
  
“Sehlat, I’ve got visual on the Rutledge,” he reported. Turix nodded at his callsign.  
  
  
“Acknowledged Icebreak. Once we’re out, establish IFF link and patch into sensor network,” he ordered. The Vulcan activated the thrusters on the new fighter, and took them out through the portal with only the mildlest of bumps and shakes. They shot out into the black, the shields of the Ibuki dropping just long enough to let them pass, before going right back up again. Shran was in a sea of sensor information, one he quickly sorted through to find a coherent picture.  
  
  
“USS Rutledge is transporting away teams. No sign of Cardassian ships for ten thousand kilometers… Twenty thousand…Lot of jamming, stand by...” His sensors beeped, and he immediately zeroed in on the source of the report. “Contact bearing 078, mark 225. Speed, one quarter impulse, low energy output. Seems to be on a course for the colony.”  
  
  
“Bunyip One, this is Bunyip Two,” Eve’s reassuring voice came over the comms link. “We see it too.”  
  
  
“Hail them,” Turix ordered. Shran sent out a standard greeting, and frowned.  
  
  
“No response,” he replied, adjusting himself in his seat. The Ibuki made another call.  
  
  
“Ibuki to Bunyips One and Two, check it out. All other fighters, form a defensive perimeter around us,” the Ibuki’s captain ordered. Turix turned and hit full impulse power, the little fighter’s change in momentum pushing Shran back in his seat. He kept his eyes on the sensors, checking everything he could. He grimaced.  
  
  
“There’s a lot of interference,” he said. “I can’t localize it.”  
  
  
“Keep trying Shran. The attack is less than thirty minutes old, they couldn’t have gone far,” Turix ordered, adjusting their course a bit towards the bright star that was the contact. Out of the corner of his eye Shran could see Eve’s fighter-flying alongside.  
  
  
The star grew into a boxy looking vessel-A Federation cargo hauler, and a fairly large one. Turix hailed them again.  
  
  
“This is Commander Turix of the Federation starship USS Ibuki, identify yourselves,” Turix stated. There was nothing but silence. “Turix to unidentified vessel, respond.”  
  
  
“Another contact, 210 degrees, mark 039-It’s above the Ibuki!” Shran shouted. The vessel in front of them exploded, the flash nearly blinding Shran and the shockwave striking their fighter across the bow like the slap of a giant. Turix struggled with the controls ahead as they spun away. Shran focused on the sensors-He saw new contacts emerging, from underneath the Federation cargo ship, headed right for-  
  
  
“Bunyip 2! Lieutenant Sharps! Incoming! Bogies, incoming!” Shran shouted. The fighter continued to spin out, giving Shran only brief glimpses of what was happening. Brief snapshots he could never forget.  
  
  
Dark, amber vessels with glowing red disruptor cannons flying out of the debris and plasma fires of the destroyed ship. Them closing on Eve’s fighter, which was already trying to evade. The same vessels opening fire, unleashing a merciless storm of disruptor fire. The fighter exploding, even as Eve shouted something over the comms-  
  
  
“Lieutenant! Eve! EVE!” Shran bellowed. The sensors told him the full story, to underline the terrible flashes: Bunyip 2 was gone.  
  
  
“All fighters, recall, recall! We are under attack! Repeat, this is Ibuki, we need support, we are under attack-!” The captain’s voice came over the comms.  
  
  
“Ibuki, we respond,” Turix said. “Shran. Shran!” He raised his voice, and Shran’s eyes were dragged from the debris field that was… Was…  
  
  
“Sir!” He managed. He looked at his screens. “Fighters closing on the Ibuki, from above and below!”  
  
  
Turix engaged the impulse drive, racing after the Cardassian fighters. Already, numerous fighters were striking at the carrier-From above, while the fighters that had erupted from the transport were accelerating right at her. Only a few fighters had launched, and they were engaging the Cardassians as best they could. Shran briefly wondered why the Rutledge and the Gral weren’t helping, but the sensors revealed the obvious-Both vessels were exchanging fire with large, manta-shaped Cardassian cruisers.  
  
  
The phasers, already charged, locked onto the nearest Cardassian fighter. Turix’s voice was even.  
  
  
“Firing phasers,” he stated. The golden beams arced out, striking the fighter. It took the hit on its shields, which flickered out. Another phaser shot lanced through the fighter’s impulse drive, and a plasma explosion erupted from it. The whole vessel was soon consumed, and the other fighters broke out of the line of fire. Turix held back, seeing the fighters turning back towards him.  
  
  
“Now,” he simply stated, impulse drives at full. He plunged straight for one of the Cardassian pilots, the other fighters attempting to circle around behind the Peregrine. Turix stayed on the course, a collision course. Shran gripping his controls tightly, trying to stay calm, knowing the commander was not suicidal-but who could tell beneath that Vulcan stoicism-?  
  
  
“Breaking,” he stated, dodging out of the way of the disruptor shot. He swung the fighter around, keeping its nose pointed for the belly of the Cardassian fighter as they shot past. Shran pulled the trigger, and the fighter was raked with phaser blasts at close range. Shran didn’t see it, but the sensors confirmed the vessel erupted into fire as its impulse drives went up.  
  
  
“Remaining fighters are closing,” Shran warned. Turix nodded.  
  
  
“Acknowledged. Stand by,” he stated. The Ibuki began to grow in their viewscreen, larger and larger. Phaser and disruptor fire filled the sky as the starship and her flock engaged the swarming amber fighters. Shran saw the four fighters behind them accelerate even harder, their impulse engines burning brightly on his sensor panel.  
  
  
“Sir, they’re-”  
  
  
“I see them,” Turix said. He flipped the fighter around, letting momentum keep them moving as he lined up his shot. The fighters didn’t break-They just kept on accelerating as Turix fired phasers.  
  
  
One beam lashed out, striking the fighter on the lower left. It immediately burst into flames, spinning out along the path of its momentum. The other three though dodged them with barely any effort. So easy to explode, so easy to destroy, but why? Why were these taking so little to destroy…?  
  
  
“Ibuki to Bunyip 1, we’re launching more backup, stand by,” the captain’s voice spoke in their ears. It was at this moment though that Shran broke through the jamming… And saw just what the Cardassian fighters were carrying.  
  
  
“No! Ibuki, don’t! Don’t! Keep your shields up-!” He called frantically, but it was too late.  
  
  
Dozens of photon torpedoes erupted from the Cardassian fighters-An almost beautiful, but terrible display, like flowers blooming and then bursting into flames. Turix, trained on instinct, went to full reverse and tried to take them out of the maelstrom.  
  
  
“Jam their tracking systems, Shran!” Turix ordered. Even in his shock, Shran fell back on his own training-Turning the deflectors of the little fighter to full, targeting the missiles with as much electromagnetic energy as he could to jam them, fry their circuits-  
  
  
But they were too close. The photon torpedoes flew true, just as the Ibuki’s shields dropped to let loose another fighter into the conflict.  
  
  
The first two slammed into the open hanger bay doors, exploding and engulfing the bay in flames. The ship shook as more torpedoes slammed into its secondary hull, many others flying uselessly by, and more explosions began to rock the vessel. From within, plasma fires erupted, shooting out of the bay doors like a great dragon erupting fire into space. Windows, hull sections, entire decks were blown from the sides of the ship, a nacelle hemorhaging plasma out into the vaccuum. Shran could see people-Bodies, twisted up like puppets caught in their strings, silently screaming.  
  
  
The other Cardassian fighters let loose their own torpedoes, even as the Federation fighters kept firing on their adversaries, trying to protect their mortally wounded homebase. They too kept jamming away, even firing phaser shots to try and destroy them. Several missiles met their end but... It wasn’t enough.  
  
  
The Ibuki bent in the center of its secondary hull, like a great beast convulsing in agony. Then, it split, the hull shattering as the warp core exploded into a massive fireball. Pieces of debris shot out like shrapnel, and Turix did everything he could to dodge the pieces. He went into dizzying manuevers, flipping the fighter every way he could imagine, the world outside a blur. They were being pelted by projectiles, the shield numbers dropping faster and faster. All the while, Turix continued calmly speaking to Shran.  
  
  
“Shran, scan for survivors and escape pods. They won’t survive in this. Scan for-”  
  
  
A piece of metal, like a jagged, twisted sword, slammed through the transparent aluminum canopy like it was made of paper-And right through Turix’s chest. The Vulcan convulsed, sputtering something in his helmet… And went still.  
  
  
Shran vaguely recalled someone screaming. As though it was someone else. As though everything was a distant, bad dream. But the shuddering impact the Peregrine took from another piece of debris thrust him back into his body, and back into his present reality.  
  
  
A reality where his ship had been destroyed. His mentor and friend was dead. His commander was dead, right in front of him. His fighter was spinning out of control, damaged, in a debris field. And his enemies…  
  
  
He could see the fighters closing on him from above. They were locking weapons. He gripped his controls, hard. He tried to knock himself loose, but the Peregrine was tangled up in blackened framework that had belonged to the Ibuki: He could hit the impulse engines, but he would only succeed in ripping his fighter apart. He lifted his eyes, frantically, back up to the fighters. His hearts pounded, as his antenna twitched.  
  
  
Was this it then? The moment he entered the Eternal Rest? The end of his mortal life and the beginning of another? In such an injustice? In such… An outrage?  
  
  
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It was cold and empty… Shran took deep breaths, not sure how long the life support would last or if it was one of the systems even still functioning. He looked back up at the enemy fighters. He gripped his trigger.  
  
 _  
Not like this… Not like this… Not like this… Please… If anyone’s out there… If I am to die today, please…_ He bowed his head, shaking in rage and grief and despair, _let them die first!_  
  
  
The sensors screamed about the weapons lock. Shran glared defiantly up through the canopy, as the Cardassian fighters loomed. He could just barely see the disruptors light up.  
  
  
It was as though it was all in slow motion-The beams arcing right for him. He kept his eyes open, refusing to close them. _Not now, not yet-!_  
  
  
A dark mass flew in front of the beams, taking the blast and shattering into more debris. Shran started, as everything was still moving in slow motion. He checked the sensors-The debris had intercepted the shots, shielding him. The blow had pushed against the Peregrine, jerking it loose from the wreckage of the Ibuki that had trapped it. He almost didn’t believe it.  
  
  
But training took over, as his sensors blared a lockon warning. He hit the impulse drives, accelerating upwards out of the blasts. He was breathing hard, hearts pounding like drums against his chest, but his thoughts… His thoughts were calm.  
  
  
Because he’d realized something. With the Ibuki destroyed… He had nothing left to lose.  
  
  
“Papa Two,” He muttered out of habit into the comms, as he launched two photon torpedoes. He immediately went to full impulse, narrowly evading the phaser blasts from the other flight of enemy fighters. The three fighters from before broke in all directions, trying to evade. Shran had to divide his attention between these fighters and the other flight, but he was able to see the obvious-Two of them were slowed trying to dodge through the debris field. And those were the two his torpedoes locked onto.  
  
  
He had to turn away and focus on the phaser fire from the opposing flight-He charged right for them, pushing the impulse drives to maximum. He didn’t get to see two of the ships that killed the Ibuki die-But the sensor contacts, showing their desperate, final attempts to escape the missiles were enough. Two shots… And two kills.  
  
  
“Eight,” he muttered through a grim smile. The Cardassians ahead of him stayed in tight formation, trying to overwhelm him with disruptor shots. He responded by hitting his deflectors to full, beaming as much electromagnetic interference at the enemy ships as he could. He hoped it would throw their targeting off at close range.  
  
  
He closed the distance, dodging right and underneath the wreckage of Ibuki’s warp nacelle, and locked torpedoes. He was within 10,000 meters, already knife fighting range, but kept charging. It was reckless, almost suicidal… 5,000 meters… 2,000...  
  
  
But it worked, as the Cardassian commander was clearly not willing to call Shran’s bluff. The fighters broke, forming a flower petal as they tried to catch Shran’s Peregrine in a crossfire as he shot by. Shran had other ideas, and despite the straining protests of the spaceframe, he slammed on the impulse drives to vector his course right at the uppermost fighter. He stabbed phaser button like he was jamming a knife into his enemy’s heart: Orange beams of energy lashed out. One fighter exploded, point blank range rendering his shields little use. Shran targeted the next one, firing, and blew off the Cardassian’s impulse drive. It spun out of control into the debris, as his three fellow fighters attempted to pull around. They fired wildly, shots all over the place.  
  
  
Shran spun the Peregrine around, letting his momentum carry him. He pumped more phaser shots into the fighters, who ascended with their noses points right at him. Against the protests of the impulse engines, he threw the fighter into a kind of arcing dive-Rotating to keep the nose right on his foes while the fighter “fell”. One shot by the Cardassians struck his port wing, the shields giving out and a chunk of his hull was torn away. He compensated with the thrusters, and let loose three more torpedoes. He then flipped around and went for full burn, another phaser hit by the Cardassians striking his fighter. The hull shook, shuddered… But stayed together.  
  
  
Shran allowed himself to spin around again, and watch. Two of the fighters, dogged and determined, had charged into the torpedoes-And he got to see them go up into plasma fireballs, their wreckage spraying into the cloud of metal all around them. The third had already been pulling away, and dropped some kind of debris from tubes-Something to confuse the sensors.  
  
  
The torpedo may have been fooled… If Shran hadn’t taken a hand, and sent a proximity detonation command.  
  
  
The torpedo burst into a new, short lived star, the radiation washing over the Cardassian fighter. Its outer hull burned, cracked, and came apart like shattered glass. A second later, it’s own fusion reactor went up, leaving a cloud of molten metal to spin away into the abyss.  
  
  
Shran’s breathing suddenly sounded very loud in his helmet. He was covered in sweat, his suit felt tight and hot. He was floating now-The artificial gravity seemed to be offline, along with a half dozen other systems. He looked out, around, at the debris field. He could still see bodies floating among the wreckage… Almost close enough to identify.  
  
  
He shut his eyes tightly. He’d been saved… He’d done it. And while his crew was in the afterlife, he’d sent the bastards who’d killed them straight to Hell ahead of them.  
  
  
He supposed he had nothing left to do then, but join them. Shran found himself letting go…  
  
  
His console beeped urgently at him again. Shran opened his eyes and looked at the screens. The fighter from the first group, that had killed the Ibuki, wasn’t as dead as he’d thought it was. It was on the other side of the debris field, heavily damaged and trying to make a run for it. Shran’s hands found the controls again.  
  
  
“One left,” he murmured. “One left…”  
  
  
His hand rested over the impulse throttle-He’d need to get closer to make sure his last torpedo didn’t get confused in the clutter of the Ibuki’s grave.  
  
  
“-ledge to any Federation starships, can you read us? Over! Repeat, USS Rutledge, to any ships-!”  
  
  
Shran stared at the communications panel as though it was an alien thing. He hesitated for a moment, before he tapped the key.  
  
  
“Rutledge, this is Bunyip 1. We-I hear you!”  
  
  
“Thank God,” the man gasped. “This is Captain Maxwell. We just barely took out the Cardies-Heavy damage sustained. What’s the condition of the rest of the fleet?”  
  
  
“The… The Ibuki’s been destroyed,” Shran reported shakily. “I-I can’t find any other survivors. The Gral… I can’t find her, my sensors were damaged-”  
  
  
“The Gral’s hiding in a nearby asteroid belt. They lost their warp drive from that sneak attack. We’re rendezvousing with them. We’ve got a plan, but the men on the surface need help to last that long. You’re the only asset in range.”  
  
  
The enemy fighter was accelerating, getting through most of the debris field. Shran’s fingers twitched.  
  
  
“Bunyip 1, do you read? You’re the only chance they’ve got!”  
  
  
“... I... “ Shran hesitated. The man spoke again, more softly but just as firmly.  
  
  
“Son… What’s your name?”  
  
  
“... Shran. Ther’in Shran,” he murmured.  
  
  
“I know… I know what you’re going through,” the man said. “That loss… You can’t wrap your head around it. You’re burning inside, but also hollow and cold and confused. I know. But we can’t let that stop us, son. We can’t let what happened to your crew, your friends, happen to anyone else. It’s going to be hard-The hardest thing you do-but you have to do it. There is no one else. Do you read me, son?”  
  
  
Shran took a deep breath. The Cardassian fighter was nearly out of range now.  
  
  
“... I read you, sir,” he said. He turned the Peregrine around, and set course for a low altitude recon orbit of Setlik III. “I read you.”  
  
  
Even as he headed for the planet though, he still watched the fighter. Watched it until it vanished out of sensor range.  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
The table was silent. Bashir was quietly horrified. Miles’ own eyes were far away, but there was no mistaking where his mind was. And Calvin was cold, angry, and thoughtful-Looking dangerous.  
  
  
“The Cardies had a few anti-spacecraft skimmers,” Shran said. “I had to dodge them for the next three days.”  
  
  
Bashir gasped.  
  
  
“Three days? All alone in…” Bashir trailed off. Shran nodded grimly.  
  
  
“He was able to get in contact with me,” Miles contributed. “It was hell on the ground, but Shran was able to give us intel to get civilians to safety, find out where their forces were…” He took a long pull of his now warmed Vithi, and set down the mug with a loud clink. “Without him, we wouldn’t have survived an hour.”  
  
  
“Wasn’t easy,” Shran said softly. His eyes turned to Miles. “... Especially with how you kept getting into trouble.”  
  
  
Miles shook his head. “Had to drive the garrison out. It was the only way to get access to the comms relay. Besides… You could have refused to help.”  
  
  
Shran looked back at his mug. “No,” he said. “I couldn’t.”  
  
  
Silence fell again. Bashir’s commbadge chirped, and he started for a moment before tapping it.  
  
  
“Bashir here.”  
  
  
“Doctor, we have an injured dock worker we need you to treat,” a nurse stated over the communications device. Bashir nodded, and looked a strange mix of awkward, apologetic, and grateful to the three older men.  
  
  
“Sorry. Duty calls. I…” He trailed off. Miles and Shran shook their heads.  
  
  
“It’s all right,” Shran said. “Go.”  
  
  
Bashir nodded, and took his tall, lanky form out the bar doors quickly. Miles shook his head, a bit of gallows humor in his smile.  
  
  
“Poor kid couldn’t hide an emotion if his life depended on it,” he said. Shran chuckled.  
  
  
“He’s a good friend. I’m glad,” he said. Miles snorted.  
  
  
“More an annoyance who at least buys the first round,” he muttered. Calvin shook his head, chuckling a bit himself. It sounded hollow and unnatural though.  
  
  
“Chief, I hate to do this but we need some privacy for a short bit,” he said seriously. Miles’ brow crinkled, but he nodded and got up.  
  
  
“Not a problem sir. Need to stretch my legs anyway,” he replied. He walked out of the alcove towards the bar. Shran turned and looked at Calvin curiously.  
  
  
“What is it?” Shran asked. Cal sighed, pressing his hands together.  
  
  
“I was debating whether or not to approach you about this. Until I heard that story.” He looked up and locked his dark brown eyes onto Shran’s light blue ones. “Heard it again.”  
  
  
“This is about your assignment in the Demilitarized zone,” Shran stated. Calvin nodded. Shran sighed and shook his head. “I told you before, Cal: This treaty is shav. I can’t be a part of enforcing it. It will never work. All it does is sell out our people so we can focus on the Borg.”  
  
  
“I know,” Calvin said quietly, “and I agree with your assessment. The Cardies will never stop with just one colony, one world-The Bajorans are proof of that.”  
  
  
Shran raised an eyebrow. “So what exactly are you doing in the Zone, then?”  
  
  
Calvin smiled faintly. “Helping to… Organize the colonists. So that they aren’t helpless against the Cardassians. So they can defend themselves.”  
  
  
“Sounds good,” Shran said quietly. “But a few hand phasers and plasma rifles aren’t going to be enough, are they?” He lifted his mug to his lips.  
  
  
“Not with the Cardies giving their colonists weapons,” Calvin said. Shran paused his drink’s movement.  
  
  
“... You can prove this?” He asked. Calvin growled.  
  
  
“Not yet. But with some help…” He leaned back in his chair. “You have some leave coming up, right?”  
  
  
“I always have leave coming up,” Shran said with a slight smirk. Calvin smirked back.  
  
  
“So why not… Join me? For a little while.”  
  
  
Shran slowly set his mug down. He fixed Calvin with a level gaze. “Calvin,” he said quietly, “I’m not a fool. I can see where this is going. And I know where it ends.”  
  
  
Calvin stared back, just as levelly. “You don’t agree?”  
  
  
Shran looked down at his mug. “In principle? I might,” he admitted. “In practice? I was at Wolf 359, Cal. I came in right after. I saw what they did.” He looked back at Calvin, his voice cool and controlled. “I can understand hard decisions. Decisions that cost you your honor. Cost you your dignity. For a larger, greater good.”  
  
  
“If we don’t enforce the smaller goods, then what use are the greater goods?” Calvin hissed, getting angry. “Where’s the justice and honor in that?”  
  
  
“I don’t disagree. It’s wrong. It’s wrong and it’s going to blow up in our faces one of these days,” Shran said slowly, eyes locked onto Calvin’s, “but when you’re out of the system, you lose any credibility you might have. When you take that final step, you’ve lost all the trust you’ve built with everyone you knew. And you shrink all your options down to two: Fight, or die.” He sipped his beer again, then slowly set it down. Calvin looked angrily down at his hands, then slowly back up at Shran.  
  
  
“... Going to report me?” Calvin asked. Shran fixed the human with a long, silent look.  
  
  
“... Over what? A friendly conversation?” Shran asked quietly. Calvin very slowly nodded.  
  
  
“Of course,” he said. “That’s all it is.”  
  
  
“Of course,” Shran nodded. “And we can have many more in the future if you like.” He looked over at the bar where Miles had gotten into a mild argument with the Ferengi proprietor. “Chief! How about another round, on me?”  
  
  
The Chief brought the drinks, and slowly, conversation turned to more light hearted topics: Calvin’s children, Miles’ little girl, Shran’s latest ex. There was much ribbing and some laughter, and Shran almost allowed himself to forget the look in Cal’s eyes. He was worried over nothing, wasn’t he? He’d left the door open for more talks. Calvin wasn't a fool. He had done the right thing... Hadn't he?  
  
  
It was a question he would ask himself many times in the coming months and years.  
  
  
\- - -


	2. Chapter 2

**_Orbit of Valo II_ **

**_2370_ **

* * *

It wasn't as though the stars would ever change when he looked out at them. Yet a small part of Andross Gottschalk always surged up in awe when he broke through the sky into the infinite night. Like it was brand new.

"Andross. Mind the plasma gauge. The prototype might have feedback."

He rolled his eyes, pulled back from his musing into his pilot's seat. "This isn't my first, or seventh time testing your new projects, Keiko. Have some faith."

Being in the pilot's seat, he could only imagine the trim Japanese woman sticking her tongue out at him from behind. She was so immature.

"Yes, but I'm here and it's my prototype and we're following procedure," she replied with a bit of a huff. Andross checked over the sensors of the Peregrine. Yes, they were still on the exact same orbital path he had plotted a minute ago.

"So, when is it going to explode?" He asked.

"It's not going to explode!" Keiko said defensively.

"So we're not following procedure then? That would be nice," he continued. Keiko growled at him. It was a cute sound, and her face was even cuter when she was irritated with him. It was, however, far safer to irritate her when he was doing something that if interrupted, would kill them both. Call it insurance.

"The last time it exploded, it was because you did something wrong! So if we blow up, it's your fault, not mine!"

"Good to know," he said dryly. Keiko took in a deep breath, shaking her head. She muttered under her breath in Japanese, stuff the Universal Translator wasn't getting because she'd turned it off. He was able to pick out a few of her favorite terms for him though: "Baka" prominent among them. He'd have to ask what it meant someday.

The console beeped, and he looked down at the display. "All right. We're at the testing range." He took firm hold of the joystick and throttle, as a cluster of spheres appeared on the HUD. "We set for the test?"

"Just a moment," Keiko responded. Her fingers flew over her consoles, arranged in a strange layout. She'd called it "Querty" or something like that. Apparently a format she was used to back where she'd come from.

The twenty-first century. That still boggled his mind, that the young woman behind him was technically older than his great-grandparents. He dismissed such thoughts from his mind and kept his focus on the task at hand-She had a way of noticing when his mind was drifting.

"All right. Pods are powered up. Telemetry is within expected tolerances. How's the link to the new fire control system?" Keiko asked.

Andross cycled through his weapons options. The phasers were the start, of course. Both torpedo magazines were full of the microphotons. He cycled once more, and the pods appeared with a rather simple icon: A rectangular box with five circles on the front. Up on the HUD was a targeting cursor, that followed his eyes as he looked around.

"Huh! That's actually impressive," Andross commented, marvelling at how the cursor matched his eye movements perfectly. "It won't make me go blind, will it?"

"No, I think your activities in your quarters will take care of that," she retorted. Andross managed a little smirk and snort-It was a good hit.

"Firing control is functioning normally. I'm not seeing any issues," he said. He tapped his control keys. "Pods armed. Safeties…" He hesitated a moment, before pressing down. "Unlocked."

The screens turned green. More importantly, the ship hadn't exploded. He let out a breath. He felt Keiko's smirk, and rolled his eyes again.

"We haven't exploded yet. You can't be smug, yet," he stated.

"Please, I can be as smug as I like," she said cheerfully. "So… Starting up the probe sequence! Just look at the target, pull the trigger, and when you've got all the targets just launch!"

"Roger," Andross replied. The circular probes accelerated towards them, getting into pairs before breaking in all directions around them. Andross hit the thrusters, pulling up and starboard to track one group. He locked his eyes to one and targeted it, before moving to the next and repeating it. He pulled the trigger, and he felt a vibration through the ship. Two burning orange stars erupted from the pods underneath the wings, and shot forth through the vacuum, screaming for the two drones. The microphotons detonated, and both probes were converted into clouds of radioactive vapor.

"Good! Good first hit!" Keiko practically cheered. "I knew you could do it-"

"Well," Andross began.

"-my wonderful little pods!" She finished brightly. Andross let out a long sigh. He immediately spun them back around, finding another pair of quickly dodging probes.

"Targeting. Firing," he stated. Another pair of microphotons lashed out, and another pair of the little drones were violently evicted from life. "This is more convenient, but it's only good at visual range."

"Oh, you can launch torpedoes from range any time, but this is for close range combat! When you can't rely on the sensors as much," Keiko explained.

"And it's from one of your animes," Andross stated wryly.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Keiko asked, a bit brittle sounding.

"I didn't say that," he said quickly. He found the next pair. "Maybe make it more challenging?"

Keiko was silent, her fingers tapping rapidly. Four pairs of probes converged, and began circling around Andross like a swarm of angry bees. Andros got his eyes on one cluster, but they broke and shot off in all directions. He grimaced and began hitting the thrusters faster, trying to get eyes on them for long enough to pull the trigger.

"Better?" Keiko asked. Andros began pulling the trigger rapidly, collecting more and more locks. He jammed his thumb on the launch button-And eight microphotons erupted out of both pods, making the Peregrine shudder. The gray probes darted and scrambled around like frantic insects, but the little torpedoes struck true-One after another after another, leaving a cloud of ionized gas burning around them as the drones died.

Andross nodded slowly. "Much," he replied.

* * *

Bringing a Peregrine in for a landing was a far different experience from flying a shuttle or even a runabout. While on paper the Peregrine was supposed to be a heavily modified courier and scout vessel, the changes made bared little resemblance to the slow but agile little thing they were derived from. For one thing, the Peregrine had very little space for the crew: Nothing more than the cockpit module. The rest of its hull was filled to the gills with weapons, sensors, and the General Electric MAMR-451-G warpcore that powered it. As a result, there was barely any empty space in the craft at all unless the fuel tanks and torpedo magazine were empty.

This tended to make the fighter hit the deck not like a gently falling feather, but a rock. Even with inertial dampeners and anti-gravs, coming down onto the runway rocked and shook the little ship. It wasn't anything to be worried about in Andross' mind though: In fact, that was the fun part.

"Bran to tower, landing complete," he spoke out to the tall communications tower near the center of the base. "Taxiing to hanger, throttling down."

"Acknowledged, Bran. Welcome back," was the reply. Andross popped the canopy, letting the warm fresh air into the cockpit. Keiko popped her helmet off, letting her long hair free from the bun she'd tucked it into. She gave him a grin.

"Told you!"

"Not a single thing went wrong… For once," Andross admitted. Keiko huffed.

"I wouldn't say that." She pulled out a PADD and began writing a list on the little tablet. "The reaction times for the controls are still too slow-Even with the optical targeting system, if you can't get a bead on an enemy they might escape. And the interface cycle was slow too: Maybe having something physical for flipping through the weapons options would be better. The LCARs synch rate started to drop when you hit thirty targets, that's another issue-"

Andross let Keiko go on, taxiing the Peregrine over the hot duracrete tarmac. They slid out of the sunlight into the cooler shade of the hanger, and Andross guided the fighter into the nearest cradle. A ground crewmember began waving them in, even as the computers obeyed their pre-programmed commands to guide the ship properly. Redundancy was critical around here.

They settled into the cradle, and Andross went through the power and lock down procedures, barely paying them any mind as Keiko kept going on.

"-and the impulse drivers weren't operating at spec in reverse thrust mode," Keiko finished, tapping the PADD with a flourish of her stylus. She sighed. "I'm not sure why that keeps happening!"

"I think it's because," Andross began, slowly standing up and turning around, "the impulse engines on the ship were specifically designed to run off fusion power, not antimatter. There's always going to be issues there."

Keiko rolled her eyes. "They scaled down starship engines without accounting for the difference in power curves, of course," she sighed, writing another thing on her PADD. "At this rate, I'll have to build entirely new impulse engines."

Andross leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "You can't just tune them to work properly?"

"I have been tuning them!" Keiko insisted, "but I think the reality is that these ships are at the point where just fiddling with them isn't going to get us any better results. It's like turbojet engines in Macross Zero: Insufficient power for everything they have to do."

Andross winced. "Please tell me you aren't still on about the transforming robots thing-"

"Of course I am!" Keiko responded, shaking her head. "You can't tell me it's impossible! I've run the simulations myself!"

"I know. I was there," Andross said dryly. Keiko huffed, slowly rising out of her seat and moving to the ladder.

"You're going to have to let those simulated deaths go: They were just simulations!" Keiko said.

"I just don't know why I have to be the one going through the simulated deaths. With how most of your stuff works in real life, it feels like a preview," Andross shot back. The ladder rattled a bit when Keiko put her hand on it, and he reached out to hold it. Keiko shifted her grip, so that his hand came to rest atop hers. She looked back, a bit surprised. Andross looked at his hand, and back up at her.

"What I mean is-" He started, trying to move his hand away. A cleared throat stopped him, and both he and Keiko looked over at the source. Andross narrowed his eyes.

Commander Shran had two squadron leads who were lieutenant commanders. He didn't know the other one, but he knew this one: Lieutenant Commander Richard "Alpine" Amati, a tall Earth man of French and Arab descent.

"If you're done flirting, Gottschalk," Amati stated in a heavy accent, making Andross yank his hand away like it was on fire, "Matsunaga, we've got a mission. Briefing room, five minutes."

"Yes sir," Andross replied. Amati's eyes narrowed.

"I trust the test flight went well, despite your… History?" He sneered. Andross bit back a retort, keeping his tone level.

"Yes sir."

Amati looked over at Matsunaga, an eyebrow raised. "I'll expect you to have the Chief and myself go over your findings for this test flight before you submit them formally, Matsunaga. After all, you're still adjusting to our time and better to be safe than sorry."

"Of course, sir," Keiko responded with a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "I wouldn't want to make any mistakes in your procedure."

Amati nodded, a slight smirk on his face. "I do have to ask though, Matsunaga. You always pick Gottschalk for your test flights. Wouldn't it make more sense to pick the best pilot for the job?" Amati smiled, his right hand resting on his chest. Keiko smiled back, still kind and polite.

"I always pick the best pilot… For the job, sir," she said. "I believe we had a briefing?"

Amati scowled. "Let's go," he ordered, turning and stalking across the hanger deck. Andross looked over at Keiko, his eyebrows raised. She just shrugged.

"It's his problem, not mine," she said.

"Maybe I should make it his problem," Andross gritted out, glaring holes into the back of the lieutenant commander's head. Keiko gently rested a hand on his shoulder, and he looked down at her. She shook her head.

"There are better ways to prove you're the better man," she said. Andross raised an eyebrow.

"That almost sounded like a compliment, Keiko."

Keiko chuckled and patted his shoulder, turning and heading across the hanger deck. "Fighter pilots. Always the puffing up over a bit of honest appraisal."

"Hmph," Andross replied, but he had to work a bit harder to hide his smile.

* * *

Like everything else on Outpost 444, the interior decor and design of the briefing room was from the 2270s: Pastels and geometric shapes on the walls. It seemed a bit at odds with the modern screen up on the wall, and the simple, slightly uncomfortable chairs the pilots and crew had to sit in. Amati stood at the head of the room, clearing his throat loudly.

"We received a distress call from a Cardassian freighter in the DMZ thirty minutes ago," Amati stated. "They described their attackers as small Federation courier ships-Basically from the same model line as our Peregrines. According to broadcasts made by several former Federation colonies, these attacks are part of a coordinated campaign by an organization called 'The Maquis'."

Amati hit the display panel, and a map of the DMZ appeared with markers denoting the attack. Amati shook his head, looking grave.

"The Maquis have announced that their next target is what they claim is a secret Cardassian weapons depot. Our Cardassian source informs us that this is true, and it is probably the Bryma Colony or the Veloz Prime Colony," he pointed out the star system on the map, "here. Commander Shran and Sisko will handle the Bryma Colony, we will handle Veloz Prime. As these actions could lead to further tensions with the Cardassians, our orders are to enter the DMZ and defend the colony from Maquis attack."

Much muttering and whispering ensued at this. Andross leaned forward, frowning hard.

"What's going to be done about the weapons depot, sir?" He asked.

"The Cardassians assure us they will remove it," Amati said with a sniff. "Apparently rogue elements in their military were supplying arms to their colonists in the Demilitarized Zone," Amati replied promptly, nodding in self assurance without a hint of irony in his voice. "In any event, that's not our concern Gottschalk. As Commander Shran is at Deep Space Nine, and Lieutenant Commander Serkano is off leading another training flight, I will be in command. Lieutenant Mychol Jin, you will be my SIO."

A young Tullian, a Bolian cousin species, with prominent cybernetic implants along his neck and cheeks, nodded as he straightened up. "Yes sir," he replied, managing to sound professional.

"Lieutenant Suref, you're up with Ensign Ro'ad," Amati continued. "Ensign Hajar, you're with Zolnuld. And you, Gottschalk, are with Matsunaga. Get to your ships and get ready to launch. Dismissed… Except you, Matsunaga."

Keiko kept up her sunny expression, even as she tensed up just a bit. Andross shot her an anemic version of a comforting look, before he turned and headed out to his ship.

It wasn't every day you had to go and fire on your own people, after all.

* * *

Four hour laters, their four ship section was streaking for Veloz Prime. Amati's ship was in front, a pair of microphoton pods fitted underneath the wings. Andross and Keiko's ship had the same: A concession that had been granted on the grounds they could use the backups. The other two fighters lacked the pods, as Keiko had only built two sets at this point. They made due with full sized photon torpedoes held in racks, three per hardpoint.

The stars streaked past them as they flew faster than light, a breathtaking sight to be sure, that Andross found himself ignoring as he contemplated his position at the back.

"It's natural to be uncomfortable, you know," Keiko spoke, after hours of being consumed in her readings and analyses. Andross perked up.

"Hm? About what?" He asked.

"Fighting Federation citizens. Your own… Our own people," she said. Andross let out a sigh, not even bothering to deny it.

"I'm kind of glad to be playing spotter," he said, almost a lie.

"Playing spotter is important. We're AWACs," Keiko said. Andross frowned.

"What?"

"Airborne Warning and Control," she explained. "What fighter pilots back on Earth used to rely on for direction. Planes in the back, monitoring everything and telling the fighters where to go."

"Yeah. Important," Andross replied, a bit more bitter than he intended. He shook his head. "I don't feel like it's a compliment though."

"It isn't, no," Keiko said. She chuckled. "I feel more sorry for Mychol. I barely had any time to tell him how the pods work and what to look out for!"

"You focus on helping him through it then, I'll handle the sensor readings," Andross said, already looking through the sensor screen options. "Last thing we need is him getting blown up because Amati wanted some glory."

_"Chevalier to Chevalier Flight, approaching Veloz Prime. Cut warp engines and switch to full impulse in twenty seconds,"_ Amati ordered. Andross set the parameters in the computer, but still held the controls. He had practiced this enough times to get it down to the second.

"Acknowledged," he replied.

_"Three… Two… One… Mark,"_ Amati ordered. The stars returned to dots, pinpricks of light in the infinite darkness. A planet rushed up and slowed to meet them, green and fertile with a few Cardassian satellites and installations in orbit. Another group of contacts appeared, emerging from warpspeed from the outer edges of the solar system.

"Chevalier, Bran. Contacts bearing 078, mark 237. Distance, one light minute."

_"Chevalier to flight, arm weapons and raise shields,"_ Amati ordered. _"Except you Bran. Stay back and only report."_

Andross gritted his teeth. "Understood, Chevalier," he replied, and he slowed down to say further back. Keiko was still silent, her fingers tapping all over the controls at high speed.

It took several minutes, while Andross got more and more information from the ships. They were Federation of course: Two Condor-class Raiders, two Peregrine-class fighters and a London-class cargo ship. It was running with a high output subspace field, making it hard for Andross to sort through it.

"Keiko, I need some-"

"I've got it," Keiko said, swiftly taking over the sensors. Andross leaned back, seeing the interference gradually become more intelligible. He felt even more useless at this moment, hanging back, weapons offline…

_"This is Chevalier Flight to Maquis ships: Surrender immediately or we will open fire. Repeat, Maquis vessels, surrender or we will engage you,"_ Amati stated over the open communications. _"You have no chance."_

There was silence. Then…

_"This is_ Val Jean _to Chevalier flight. That Cardassian weapons depot needs to be destroyed. We have no quarrel with you if you're not going to help us. But I suggest you stay out of our way."_

Andross's jaw dropped, and before he could stop himself his fingers were jamming down on the communications button on his own console.

"Chakotay?!"

* * *

_Neptune Orbit, Sector 001_

_2367_

* * *

Acceleration at maximum burn in a Starfleet training ship was a rough experience, especially with the inertial dampeners at minimum. Yet fighting against the gee forces kept his heart pounding, a grin on his face. Andross pushed himself harder, pulling himself into a tight turn to try and keep his enemy in his sites. The opposing ship was pulling the gees just as hard, before abruptly turning and darting out of the targeting cursor's range. Andross pulled hard to follow along, starting to get the cursor back on the target again.

Sweat had been pouring down his face in his helmet for a while, but he kept blinking it away to keep his focus, keep pushing, keep going…!

The opposing ship pulled up, and hit the reverse thrusters hard. Andross slammed on the brakes himself, pulling to the right to keep the pip on the target. Then the target… Vanished, right into warp.

"What the-?!"

His sensors beeped loudly. He looked down at his console: He'd been hit by a simulated phaser blast from behind and above.

_"Mauler to Echo 1: You're dead… Again,"_

his instructor stated. Andross growled and slammed his hands against the console.

"Damnit!" He took a deep breath, calming himself as best he could. He hit the return communications button.

"Aye sir."

_"I think three hours is enough,"_ his trainer said. _"Return to base."_

"Aye sir," Andross managed, shifting to autopilot and changing course. He opened up his helmet, wiping the sweat from his face as best he could with the sleeve of his suit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other ship fly upside down and slowly move up overhead. He leaned back, and saw the smiling face of his instructor.

_"You're been getting a lot better,"_ Mauler complimented him. Gottschalk grumbled.

"At dying, maybe," he replied. "I missed that trick, again."

The Cochrane Deceleration: One of the oldest tricks in starship combat. Yet Professor Chakotay was a master at it.

His instructor shook his head. _"And you kept up longer."_

"Are you my teacher or my girlfriend?" Andross snorted. His instructor laughed.

_"You can't take a compliment, can you? Maybe you'll be less ornery with a few drinks under your belt."_

"I doubt it," he muttered.

It took only a few hours to get back to Earth and to land back at Edwards Spacebase. A quick transport and they were back in San Francisco. And it didn't take long from there to get to the bar Earharts. It was bright and garish, and filled with happy Starfleet officers and personnel. Gottschalk sat at the bar, and his instructor, Chakotay, sat next to him.

"Antarian cider, two glasses," he told the bartender, who nodded his bulbous head and got to work. Chakotay looked over at Andross, whose eyes were studiously on a PADD. Chakotay shook his head again, and reached out to take the PADD from him.

"Sir, I-"

"Drop it," he stated. Andross stared in disbelief, and Chakotay sighed. "You're graduating in a few weeks, near the top of your class, and you're still picking at your performance?"

"I have to keep up," Andross pointed out. "I got here without any references or connections or even family. I only did it this way: With hard work!"

The Federation did everything it could for orphans, but Andross had always felt incomplete compared to the other kids. His foster parents were kind and generous, and he cared for them, but that missing piece of himself… It was always so glaring inside him, no matter how he rationalized it.

"I know," Chakotay said gently, "I understand. But you're going to learn that treating everything like another test to pass isn't going to cut it out there." He shook his head. "I've seen officers like that, Andross. Hell, I was one."

Andross frowned. Their drinks came, and he hesitantly took the glass. He sniffed it… And then sipped it. It was surprisingly good, and Chakotary threw back his own glass happily.

"So," Andross said cautiously, "what did you do?"

Chakotay chuckled. "Me? I thought I could handle everything, all on my own. Until I ran up against a problem that humbled me. I learned from it, and I came out better by realizing I needed to ask others for help, and loosen up." He tapped his glass, and the bartender poured some more. He took another drink, slower this time. Savoring it. Andross found himself copying the big Native American, and he had to admit it was better when you let it linger on your tongue.

"And… If I come against that?" Andross asked. Chakotay looked him dead in the eyes.

"If you do… You need to be able to take the blow and get back up," Chakotary said. "Staying stiff will do nothing but make you shatter."

Andross nodded. He looked back at his drink. "You know, you don't have to do all this for me," he explained. "I heard some of the other cadets talk about favoritism."

Chakotay smirked. "Maybe I just like flying against someone who knows how to fly."

They had a few more drinks, talked some more, and even tried karaoke. Andross was terrible at it drunk, but Chakotay was worse and they had a good laugh. And Andross had a new favorite drink.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Graduation, and then assignment: The USS _Monitor_ , a newer _Nebula_ -class starship. He became a pilot of the shuttle complement and crosstrained as a tactical officer. He learned how to relax a little, meet his crewmates in the messhall and for drinks. For a year, everything seemed natural and easy. He got promoted to lieutenant, junior grade, and assigned as flight lead. He flew survey missions, relief, even a near encounter with a Romulan Warbird. Like something out of a recruitment vid.

Then came the mission to Maroa II. The planet's inhabitants, the Maroans, had alternated between being close to the Romulan Empire and being interested in Federation membership for almost a century. Their rough and tumble democracy swung one way, and then another-Until finally, an anti-Federation extremist party managed to win. They ordered all Federation citizens offworld in 27 hours, and were threatening to kill any suspected sympathizers or pro-Federation citizens.

The _Monitor_ couldn't beam people up fast enough, so they'd launched runabouts to start ferrying people up from the Federation embassy in the capital, Rorsha'vek'ii. Around the walled compound of the embassy, thousands of desperate Maroans, their green skin tinged in purple flushes of fear and anger, desperately tried to get over the walls or through the gates. The ambassador at the embassy kept letting in small groups of people, evacuating his staff a piece at a time with them, but kept having to drive the crowds back with warning shots from phasers.

Andross kept his cool. He told jokes to the passengers, giving them reassuring smiles and gestures he'd learned quickly from the Maroan guides aboard. He flew them up fast and hard, getting around the sensor nets to deliver refugees to the _Monitor_ or any of the other starships gathered in high orbit. He brought the Maroan equivalent of candy and handed it out to children as they boarded, and the kids waiting for their next runabout.

It was frenetic, but Andross kept his cool and he kept his smile.

Then, anti-Federation forces got into the mix. They started firing into the crowds outside the embassy, scattering them and causing panic and even more fighting. The press to get into the embassy became a riot. The staff had to evacuate up to the roof of the embassy, and still more people kept coming through.

Still Andross kept flying. Still he kept his smile.

Then that moment… He could never forget. He was flying in for another pick up-A desperate one. The crowd on the rooftop was massive, desperate people reaching out to him. He tried calling over the speakers to get them to back off, to wait. They couldn't. So Andross improvised: He got in just close enough to open the rear hatch, and hovered in close enough to people to jump in. The mob swarmed in, stuffing the ship right into the cockpit. Still Andross held it steady, even with confused and frightened aliens muttering and breathing almost down his neck.

They got a lot of people off, but still too many were on the roof. He had to leave… Yet he saw a mother with two children hanging on for dear life to the outer hatch. He grimaced: They couldn't get to space, to safety, like that. He tried to tell them to let go, that he would be back.

He had almost gotten them to let go, to be pulled back… When the missile lock alarm went off. He checked the screens: A Maraon personal anti-starship missile was locked on. It launched, all the interference being generated by the Maraon government to jam their sensors made it hard to spot. Andross swung around on instinct, pulling the runabout out of the way of the missile.

Realization hit him all too slowly-His maneuver tossed the desperate Maraons back into the crowd, sending so many of them over the edges of the roof and to the ground below. Andross watched every one of them fall, their screaming faces burning into his memory. Then.. The missile hit. Not the runabout: He'd evaded it.

It hit the embassy roof.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget the sound of… Debris raining down onto the hull of the runabout. The sights, the sounds…

The rest of that time, he was numb. Nothing seemed real, Nothing felt real.

He was brought before a hearing convened by the captain and the local JAG, to examine his actions during the incident. Not a court martial, no, but to determine whether to go ahead with it. Witnesses came forth: A few of the Maraons whose life he saved, some of the other officers he'd flown with. It all seemed to run together into a dull, gray hum.

Finally, he was called to the stand. Andross vaguely remembered words coming out of his mouth, describing what happened. Answering the questions asked.

He could remember the opposing officer asking if he felt he still deserved to be in Starfleet… And Andross couldn't answer. Not for a while. Long enough she asked if he was able to answer.

"I don't know," he said honestly. She nodded, sympathy almost in her eyes. He was dismissed, and sent to his quarters for recess. There, he sat in darkness. Silent, save for his memories.

The beep of his console startled him. He almost considered ignoring it, going to bed to stare at the ceiling for a while longer. Ultimately, he saw the caller ID, and hit the receive button.

Chakotay was looking back at him, concern on his face.

_"I heard about what happened,"_ he said. _"Your ship's counselor said you refused to speak with him. So he called me up."_

"What happened was," Andross tried, but stopped. He took a deep breath. "What happened was… You were right. I got… I took a hit. I fell."

_"... And now?"_ Chakotay asked softly, his forehead deeply wrinkled. Andross took another breath, as though being conscious of every part of his body. Like it belonged to someone else.

"Maybe I'm not cut out for this," he admitted. "Maybe… Maybe I should just resign."

_"You could do that,"_ Chakotay agreed. _"So why haven't you?"_

Andross grimaced tightly. "I… I don't know. Those people-"

_"You lost people. It happens. The universe isn't fair, and it will never be,"_ Chakotay said earnestly. _"It doesn't mean it's your fault."_

"They told me that! But if I didn't move, I would have-I could have-" Andross tried, but Chakotay silenced him with a glare.

_"If you didn't move, a lot more people would have died,"_ he stated firmly. _"And so would you. Right now, you're thinking 'if I had died, maybe that would make up for them dying.' But it wouldn't. You're still alive, and they died. But you dying wouldn't change that. You didn't choose to fire that missile-Someone else did. The fact it's tearing you up inside means you're a good man, Gottschalk. But that won't bring them back. All it will do is end your life. The life you're living, and the good you can still do."_ He took a deep breath. _"A Starfleet officer isn't_ perfect _. This is the biggest myth created ever since the idea of making a perfect man arose. A Starfleet officer just does the best he can, for those he can."_

"And if my best isn't good enough?" Andross asked, almost a growl. "What then?"

_"Then you pick yourself back up, and try again,_ " Chakotay said, not intimidated in the least. _"So… What are you going to do, Lieutenant Andross Gottschalk? Are you going to lie there? Or are you going to pick yourself back up?"_

Andross stared back. He took another deep breath, and he felt a little more alive. A little less numb.

"... I think… I'm going to pick myself back up."

Chakotay smiled.

_"Good answer."_

So he went to the board. He said he had made a mistake, but he was willing to stay in the service. The captain agreed, but suggested a less stressful assignment. Which is how he had come to Outpost 444. Which demonstrated the captain's idea of _less_ stressful: Being on the Border with the Carassians in a system just beginning to recover from decades of their rule.

Yet Andross hadn't regretted this assignment… Until now.

* * *

**_Orbit of Veloz Prime_ **

**_2370_ **

* * *

There was silence on the other end of the communications line.

_"Andross-Or Bran. It's been a while,"_ Chakotay said, very calmly, as though they were talking in a bar and not facing each other with armed weapons. _"How's the Peregrine treating you?"_

"Very well," Gottschalk replied. "My engineer, Keiko, is great with them. They're old but you can still do interesting things in them."

"Ah, thanks," Keiko said, a bit awkwardly.

_"Bran! This is Chevalier, Flight Lead!"_ Amati barked over the comms. _"You will_ cease _speaking to the enemy and immediately-"_

"Sir, wait, please," Andross interrupted. "Let me try. There's no reason this has to escalate into violence, let me talk to him-"

_"They are violating the treaty with illegally obtained weapons and they will surrender or-!"_ Amati shot back.

_"A Starfleet officer not seeking a peaceful solution? Immediately resorting to violence?"_ Chakotay asked dryly. _"I can see the standards have slipped since I resigned."_

_"You're one to talk about being a Starfleet officer, you traitor!"_ Amati growled. _"You will surrender immediately!"_

_"I don't think so,"_ Chakotay said coolly.

"Sir, please," Andross tried again, the cold sweat pooling on his forehead. "Professor, you don't have to do this. Let's talk this out, please!"

_"Chakotay, if you do not surrender in five seconds, I will open fire. And Bran, if you do not shut up I'll have you court martialed!"_ Amati practically snarled. _"Five-"_

_"Commander, I respectfully disagree with this course of action,"_ Suref broke into the comms. _"It is not logical to engage immediately in combat when a peaceful solution-"_

_"Four, three-"_

_"I don't think a peaceful solution is really possible here,"_

Chakotay observed, his fighters forming up in front of the cargo ship.

"This is the height of stupidity," Keiko groaned.

_"Two, one! Chevalier Flight, engage targets, NOW!"_ Amati shouted, and his fighter charged. Hajar's fighter joined in for cover, while Suref's fighter hung back. Amati's fighter flew right at Chakotay's Raider. The raider charged back, the other fighters flanking him.

"Sir, sir, pull back! Pull back!" Andross warned.

Amati instead… Hit his warp engines and vanished, reappearing behind the Maquis ships. He came out of the warp hop pointed away from the ships, and hastily hit his thrusters to position his nose at them. The time he spent doing this though let Chakotay's group scatter. It didn't seem to phase the lieutenant commander though.

_"Microphotons, LAUNCH!"_ He shouted… And the pods attached to both of his wings promptly exploded, bursting into plasma flames. _"Wait, what-?!"_

"Mychol!" Keiko shouted at Amati's SIO. "Eject the pods, **NOW**!"

_"I didn't order tha-_ " Amati tried, but the pods soon shot off the Peregrine, the explosive bolts going off to get them as far away as possible. With good reason: In the next second, their warheads went up in two massive antimatter explosions that knocked Amati's fighter away. Andross checked his sensors.

"Two life signs… But they're not going anywhere for a while," Andross breathed out. The fighter was completely disabled, which was probably for the best.

He got a phaser lock warning, and instinctively hit his impulse engines to full and dove to avoid the phaser blast. The lead Raider was firing on him, wingtip mounted cannons blazing away.  
"Suref, Hajar, form up on me!" Andross ordered, pulling up to charge at the belly of the Raider. The other Raider charged in, firing its own phasers and forcing Andross to break off and jink wildly.

_"I am unable to comply, Bran,"_ Suref replied. _"The two fighters are engaging Hajar and myself. I believe her communications are down."_

Andross cursed, and accelerated upwards as the two Raiders continued their phaser attack. They were trying to box him in-Classic Chakotay.

"Hang on... " He hit full reverse and spun the fighter around, screaming right at the nearest Raider. A phaser blast got close, grazing the shields on the port wing, but it didn't deter him. He got close, closer still, and then hit reverse once he saw the belly of the Raider in his sites. The other Raider, attempting to hit him, had to cease fire once he got too close to its partner vessel. Andross kept his course on tight, even as the Raider tried to swoop to the side to open Andross up to Chakotay's fire. He stayed with the Raider, sticking like glue and using him as a shield.

_"Better,"_ Chakotay's voice broke over the communications, as Andross mirrored the Raider's movements. _"But I hope you haven't forgotten-"_

The Raider bucked sharply, spinning on its axis to try and spit phaser shots right into his face. Andross, anticipating this, hit full ventral thrusters to dodge and fired his own phasers in a barrage. The Raider, not anticipating this, was hit multiple times on its shields and engines, shields flickering under the assault and then fading. Four phaser hits struck home, right on the dorsal side near the engines.

"Their main power and engines are disabled," Keiko read in satisfaction. "Good shooting!"

"You did the targeting," Andross complimented, even now boosting away to avoid Chakotay's fire.

_"Looks like you didn't forget that lesson,"_ Chakotay said over the comms. He broke from Andross's fighter and shot for Suref and Hajar, who were locked in a tight contest with their smaller counterparts. Andross hit the impulse drive to full, chasing after him.

"You don't have to do this," Andross tried again. "You don't have to _keep_ doing this. Professor, please-"

_"It's not going to work, son,"_ Chakotay said quietly. _"My decision was made for me when the Cardassians took Trebus and killed my father."_

"There's always a choice!" Andross argued. Chakotay's Raider spun around on its axis to fire phasers again, and Andross dodged the shots. "You taught me that!"

_"Life has a way of teaching us new things,"_ Chakotay stated, almost sadly. His Raider swung around Andross' return fire, and pointed its nose at Suref's fighter. The Vulcan was quickly evading the phaser shots from the Maquis Peregrine, trying to return the fire but locked in a tight dogfight. Andross grit his teeth.

"Suref! Break to 247! And launch one of your torpedoes behind you! Yield level five!" Andross ordered.

"That won't do any-" Keiko protested. Andross ignored her.

"Do it!" He shouted.

The Vulcan offered no comment, but obeyed: His ship turned and narrowly evaded Chakotay's phaser blast. The Maquis Peregrine behind him accelerated, phasers charged and locked.

_"Papa 2,"_ Suref stated, and a photon torpedo shot from underneath his wing behind him. Andross locked his phasers and fired… On the torpedo, making it detonate into a large, bright plasma flash. The Maquis Peregrine, eyes and sensors blinded, broke off-Right into Andross's phaser barrage. His shots took off one wing, the next hit the impulse engines and sent the ship spinning out of control, helpless.

"Oh my," Keiko murmured. Andross could tell she was smiling. The phaser lock alarm went off, too late-A shot hit Andross's wing dead on even as he was breaking port, his shields down to almost nothing. The little fighter shook and rattled hard, and Andross struggled to keep her on course.

_"That's a new one, I'll admit,"_ Chakotay said. _"I'll have to remember it."_

"Suref, help out Hajar," Andross ordered, banking hard. The Raider filled the space around him with phaser blasts.

"Professor, please," Andross called again,"stop this! Acting out of revenge-"

_"Acting out of revenge implies I want all Cardassians dead. That's not true,"_ Chakotay argued back. _"I want to defend my home and keep what happened to my father from ever happening again."_

"As a renegade? You keep this up, you won't have any support in the Federation!" Andross insisted, flipping back around to pump a barrage of phaser fire back. They hit where Chakotay's ship was only a moment before, the Maquis Raider having broke just in time. "The treaty is bad, but there are better ways to fix it than this!"

_"Evil prevails while good men do nothing,"_

Chakotay argued back, his own phaser fire coming uncomfortably close to Andross' cockpit. _"Selling out innocent people for a treaty the Cardassians are already violating is not what I signed up for!"_

"You said it yourself: Nothing is perfect! But we have a better chance to make it work or find a better way together! Not fighting one another!" Andross tried. He rolled too late-A phaser blast hit the nose of the fighter. "Gah! Keiko!"

"We lost our main sensors! I'm switching to back ups on the pods!" Keiko cried. "Also, while this conversation is very interesting and kind of hot-"

"Kind of _what_?" Andross muttered in disbelief.

"The cargo ship is launching torpedoes!" Keiko finished.

Chakotay's voice was surprised.

_"What?! I didn't order a launch! Paris, Seska, do you read me-?"_

Andross swung the fighter around, spotting the cargo ship easily. It was a silver gray brick, spitting out bright orange photon torpedoes like a flower ejecting pollen. Twenty, thirty, fifty of them…

"At us?" Andross asked Keiko. Keiko hissed.

"They're targeted at the colony," she said. "All of them."

The torpedoes shot past. Andross grit his teeth.

"Suref, can you assist?"

_"This last fighter is extremely difficult,"_

Suref replied. _"We can't get there in time!"_

Andross swung his ship around and activated the warp drive. Without the main sensors, he had to guess as to where to navigate to. He really hoped he was right. He tapped the key on the throttle… The stars stretched out and blurred around them. He tweaked the warpfield geometry and hit the thrusters, spinning them around on their axis. He cut the warp drive and the universe returned to normal…

With a starfield full of photon torpedoes screaming right at him.

"Do the targeting sensors on the pods still work?" Andross asked.

"Hang on," Keiko said. "They should… I need to get them back online…!"

"Keiko," Andross said warningly, as the torpedoes got bigger, and bigger…

"Almost there…!" Keiko insisted. "Be patient!"

" _Keiko_ ," Andross stated, his heart pounding in his ears. He was amazed he sounded so calm.

"Got it!" Keiko cried, and the targeting cursor appeared in his vision. He hit full reverse on the impulse drive, sorting through the nearest torpedoes and opening up on them with the microphotons. First one went up, then another, and another, the microphotons screaming at their larger brothers and taking both of them out in mutual destruction.

"Also, good news!" Keiko cried. "They're not targeting the colony anymore: They're after _us_!"

" _Great!_ " Andross returned sarcastically.

One torpedo shot for them at full speed, and Andross broke upwards. He launched a microphoton and the torpedo went up, the shockwave shaking the fighter so hard he almost felt his teeth rattle. Andross pressed on, locking onto another torpedo and firing, and another, and another… Until the pods were spent.

"Twenty torpedoes still on course!" Keiko cried. Despite being cheap ones, they were swarming all around the Peregrine. Andross's phaser trigger finger stayed down hard, one torpedo after another glowing up in a burst of gamma rays and energy. Without the targeting sensors, he had to eyeball every shot: And that meant getting close.

He barely avoided another one, this skimming within proximity detonation range. For a moment, as it passed by, he thought he could see his life flash before his eyes.

The torpedo flew by, still intact. Andross swung around and hit full reverse, his phaser blast striking true. The Peregrine drifted, surrounded by the remnants of multiple antimatter warheads behind forcibly detonated. Its crew panting for breath.

"That… That's all of them," Keiko gasped in relief. "Chakotay's incoming!"

Andross was already tired, and stressed, and on the edge. But he still hit the throttle and turned to avoid another shot from the Raider. He swung around and flew right at the Raider, phasers blazing.

The Raider deftly avoided the barrage, and returned one of its own. Andross dodged that one too, and pulled hard into a turning fight with the Raider. Given the Peregrine's smaller mass and size, the Raider was at a disadvantage. This Chakotay knew, so he powered up and broke off, Andross still right with him.

"Suref, how are you?" Andross called.

_"Last fighter has been disabled. However, both our fighters are in no better shape,"_ Suref replied. _"We are heading towards you at impulse."_

_"You've gotten a lot better,"_ Chakotay broke the radio silence at last _, "you really have."_

"Professor… Chakotay, please," Andross tried again. "What's the point of continuing this fight? You know we have reinforcements coming. The mission is a failure. Save your people: Surrender."

_"Knowing your fight is hopeless doesn't deter a lot of people. In fact, it encourages them_ ," Chakotay replied. He broke suddenly, full reverse thrust. _"If you get knocked down again… You just get back up."_

Andross broke starboard, rising, and avoided Chakotay's phaser shot. He returned one of his own, a hit the larger Raider took on its shields.

"If the cause is just and _necessary_ ," Andross said. "The treaty may be unjust, but you just launched fifty torpedoes at a civilian colony. How is that going to help your cause? Your people?!"

_"Mistakes were made,"_ Chakotay admitted. _"But there is no choice here, Andross."_

"There's _always_ a choice. It's always yours to make. Please, Chakotay," Andross pleaded, his voice breaking just a little. "I didn't have a choice to be an orphan. You didn't have a choice to lose your father. But you chose to teach me, chose to help me. Chose to do the right thing. Please… Choose it now."

There was a pregnant pause.

_"Are you sure this isn't the right thing?"_ Chakotay asked, brittle now.

"Are you?" Andross countered.

The Raider abruptly engaged its warp engines and vanished in front of them. Andross grit his teeth: The sensors were down, he had nothing to go on for targeting…

Save one thing.

He tilted up and to starboard, and squeezed the trigger. And just as he did, the Raider reappeared, its own phasers locked on and firing. The Peregrine was hit in its main engines, and only an emergency plasma vent by Keiko kept the vessel from going up into a fireball. The Raider took a shot right in its own sensors and power distribution systems, and its lights went dark.

The two ships hung in space, both crippled. Andross was breathing hard, dripping in sweat, as he tried to keep the ship steady. The master alarm was shrieking in his helmet, so he turned it off.

_"... I was hoping you'd fall for that trick again,"_

Chakotay said at last, a faint note of pride in his tight voice.

"I didn't," Andross retorted.

_"No,"_ Chakotay said, a sad chuckle on his lips. _"However: Your weapons and engines are down."_

"Your shields and weapons are gone," Andross stated back. "And I've got friends coming."

_"I'm glad you do,"_ Chakotay said. _"I'm glad you take such good care of them. As for me… I need to take care of mine."_

"Professor," Andross said, "please. Just-"

_"It doesn't matter how many times you ask, Andross. I won't do it. We're beyond words now,"_ Chakotay stated harshly. _"I'm not your teacher anymore. If you're going to keep enforcing this treaty, you're my enemy. But you don't have to be. Join us. You saved this colony: You can keep us from going too far. We need men like you, to remind us of things other than hate and loss."_

Andross was silent for a time. He had to admit, there was a brief temptation.

"Every man has a choice," he finally said. "This is mine… No matter the consequences."

He could almost see Chakotay's slow nod. _"I understand."_

Andross supposed he really did.

The Raider turned and flew off, managing a limping warp jump out to the other Raider. It jumped to the two fighters, before one last jump took it to the cargo ship. Then, having finished its task, it jumped to warp, heading out of the system. Andross let out a breath: Long and deflating, as he felt like he'd just melt.

Then...

_"This is USS_ Bradbury _to Chevalier Flight, do you read?"_ A starship captain announced over the communications. Andross hit the receive button.

"This is Bran, of Chevalier Flight. Our lead has been disabled, the rest of us aren't in much better shape. Would appreciate assistance."

_"Acknowledged. We were able to monitor the fight from outside the system_ ," the captain said. He let out a low whistle. _"That was some scrap… You did great."_

"Thank you," Andross replied. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the stars. He felt Keiko's hand rest on his shoulder.

"You did all you could," Keiko consoled. Andross slowly nodded.

"Maybe I did," he said. He sighed. "It wasn't enough."

"No," Keiko said, "but it's like you both said: It's your choice to make."

"But who made the wrong one?" Andross asked softly, staring out into the stars. Keiko squeezed his shoulder.

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" She asked. Andross managed a nod. "But personally, I'm glad you didn't choose him."

"Oh? Why?" Andross asked, craning his neck to look into Keiko's face. She was smiling pleasantly.

"Because then I'd have to shoot you with my phaser," she said cheerfully. "I'd hate to lose my favorite test pilot."

Andross managed a chuckle at that. Keiko kept smiling. His chuckled slowly died.

"... Please tell me that was a joke," Andross asked. Keiko tilted her head, beaming like a sun.

"I guess we'll never know: Will we?"

* * *

_USS_ Bradbury _, NX-72307_

_Return Trip to Federation Space_

* * *

The _Bradbury_ was an experimental heavy cruiser design, a double hulled vessel with a large, oval-shaped saucer to mate them together. The nacelles were integrated into the two hulls, presenting a small, tight profile yet with plenty of hangar and cargo space. Andross was frankly shocked they'd managed to get a ship this big allowed into the Demilitarized Zone: Usually that paperwork took months, yet here she was, an angel of mercy. Their tractor beam brought them in to the large, well lit and busy aft shuttlebay, and the antigravs managed to bring them in softly onto the deck. The real turbulence greeted them the moment the canopy opened and Andross had helped Keiko out of the backseat.

"Officers, put Mister Gottschalk and Miss Matsunaga under arrest!"

Andross turned around, greeted by goldshirts flanking Amati. Trailing behind the irate Frenchman was little Mychol, looking awkward. Amati glared and pointed his finger like a phaser, hitting between his eyes.

"Oh what is this bullshit?" Keiko asked quite loudly.

"You disobeyed my orders, and you fitted my ship with defective equipment!" Amati bellowed. "You might have gotten us all killed!"

Andross took a deep breath. He tried to count to ten. He saw Suref, Hajar, Ro'ad and Zohnuld coming up from their own fighters. Hajar in particular looked livid.

"You and your stupid, primitive twenty-first century nonsense! You're no better than a cavewoman!" Amati continued. Andross instinctively gripped Keiko's arm, keeping her from lunging at Amati.

"Sir, I think this is the kind of thing to talk about in private, without security, with a senior officer," Suref tried attempted. Hajar, a young human woman with brunette hair, was less calm.

"He saved our butts and you try to blame him for your own incompetence?!" Hajar asked in outrage. "How dare you-!"

"Shut it Hajar! You'll get yours too for being useless!" Amati snarled. He turned back to Andross, who was mentally counting to ten. He had a defense, he was going to try to reason with him-

"And you, Gottschalk! You're lucky you didn't kill more civilians! Like last time-!"

And with Amati's last shout, he was already balling his fists. Andross glared right back into Amati's eyes, angry enough that even Amati took a step back. He took another step forward, ready to throw a punch and knock out every tooth in that smug, sanctimonious mouth even as he began his rant.

"You stupid, lying, incompetent sack of-!"

_"STAND DOWN!"_ Shouted a commanding voice, and Andross pulled his fist back. The other people on the deck scattered or stood at attention, as Commander Shran strode down the deck like as avenging god. He was furious, his eyes filled with thunder. Andross found himself standing at attention, like a first year cadet again.

"Sirs," Amati began, "these two-They disobeyed my orders and fitted my ship with defective equipment-"

"He's a lying stupid son of a-!" Andross erupted, but at Shran's glare he shut up. That glare was turned onto Amati, but Andross still kept his lip buttoned.

"First rule of good command, Mister Amati," Shran practically growled, "is that you _don't_ humiliate your subordinates when they've just returned from grueling combat saving your life."

Amati gaped. "S-Sir, but-!"

"Mister Amati," Shran resumed, "I reviewed the sensor and communications logs myself. Would you like to know what I saw?" He asked. Amati shook his head.

"Ah, s-sir, I-"

"I saw you _immediately_ threaten the opposing forces, without even attempting to talk them down," Shran thundered, "despite someone who _personally_ knew their leader with you! You never _considered_ letting him talk to try and defuse the situation!"

"But I-"

"Then," Shran continued, as though Amati had not even spoken, " _you_ charged ahead and _failed_ to properly execute the Cochrane Deceleration Maneuver. You utilized prototype equipment, that had barely finished testing." He turned his eyes onto Keiko. "Chief Warrant Officer Matsunaga, did you provide Mister Amati with instructions on the operation of the pods?"

"Yes sir, I did," Keiko replied, "and I gave Mychol over there instructions on how to operate things properly!"

"Ensign Jin," Shran said, his gaze turning to the little Tullian, "did Chief Matsunaga provide you with instructions for safe operation of the equipment?"

Mychol looked like a nervous wreck. Still, he steeled himself, even with Amati's glare on him.

"Y-Yes sir," Mychol immediately replied. "She even talked me through the powerup sequence. Then the commander ordered me to skip it, and power it up to full."

"Ah! You can't do that!" Keiko interjected. "It overloaded the pods!"

Amati sputtered.

"W-Well then it-I mean he must have done it wrong!" The lieutenant commander cried, even as Mychol winced. "It was defective, _he_ was defective-!"

" _Mister Amati_ ," Shran stated, cold as ice and heavy as a glacier. " _You_ are the one who initiated hostilities. _You_ are the one who charged ahead, alone, without telling your squadron your intentions. _You_ are the one who ordered these pods fitted to your ship and did not operate them properly according to instructions by their creator. _You_ are the one who put yourself out of commission with a stupid stunt and it was _Lieutenant Gottschalk_ who took command and not only kept the squadron intact, he also prevented the massacre of over _fifteen thousand_ Cardassian civilians. The only one disputing these facts is _you_."

Amati probably did the smartest thing he had in his entire life, and kept silent, his lips as thin as a nanofiber. Shran shook his head.

"Two centuries ago, had you been a member of the Andorian Guard I would have been well within my rights to toss you right through that forcefield into hard vaccuum," Shran stated, slow and hard as he pointed at the stars beyond. Amati winced. "A century ago, in Starfleet, you'd have been clapped in irons and locked in the brig. Now?"

"Now, sir?" Amati managed. Shran sighed.

"This is my responsibility," he stated. "You were clearly not ready for this responsibility, or for this command. So I'll make it simple." He reached out and grasped a pip on Amati's collar. He pulled it off, ignoring Amati's wince. "You are demoted to Lieutenant, and restricted to select duties until the outcome of the inquiry. Hopefully, what I've done will be enough, no further punishment required." Shran grasped Amati's shoulders and glared at him right in the eyes. "In the meantime, I suggest you accept the fact that the only one to blame for this is you. That makes the solution easy: You have to fix you." Shran let him go, and stepped back. "Now go to the guest quarters and stay there. And these gentlemen will accompany you. Dismissed!"

Amati nodded slowly, turned away, and headed for the hangar bay exit looking like a whipped puppy. The goldshirts followed, looking bemused.

Then Shran turned his glare onto Andross, who found he couldn't stand up any straighter. Though Lord knows he tried.

"Mister Gottschalk," Shran said, "the communications logs reveal that you tried to talk down Chakotay repeatedly. Is that true?"

"Yes sir," Andross replied.

"That he offered membership in the Maquis to you?" Shran further inquired. Andross stiffened, and Suref stepped forward.

"Sir, may I point out-" The Vulcan began.

"You may _not_ ," Shran stated curtly, and Suref fell silent. "Well Gottschalk?"

"Yes sir, he did," Andross said.

"And you refused?" Shran further inquired.

"Yes sir," Andross replied. Shran raised his pale brows.

"You didn't attempt pursuit after disabling his vessels. Or order pursuit. Why?" Shran asked. Andross steeled himself.

"I had two combat capable fighters left. Two of my ships were disabled. The mission was accomplished: Their heavy ordnance had been intercepted and the colony was safe. To pursue them at this stage would risk my squadron's lives."

Shran nodded. "I see." He sighed, long and hard. "Well. Since I'm down one squadron lead already, looks like I'll need a new one. And seeing as you can do the job under the most stressful circumstances, I guess it'll have to be you." He reached up, the pip he'd taken from Amati in his fingers. He pinned it onto Andross' collar. Andross blinked, and reached up to touch the pips. Making sure they were real. Keiko whistled and grinned.

"I… Thank you sir," Andross managed. Shran snorted.

"Don't _thank_ me. The more pips you have, the more paperwork, the more headaches, and the more _shavit_ you have to put up with. Pray to whatever gods you believe in you never get three pips. Or God forbid, _four_. You'll wish you'd gone into _botany_." Shran looked over at Keiko, who held up her hands.

"Hey, don't look at me. I don't want a promotion! But more lab space, if you could manage it?"

"As much as I know I'm probably going to regret it, yes," Shran stated dryly, and Keiko whooped. The big Andorian turned around to the rest of the flight section members. "You're all dismissed. Get acquainted with your new squadron lead: You're going to need it."

Shran turned and headed off. The rest of the squadron closed in on Andross, Suref leading. He extended his hand, and Andross took it.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," he stated. "I am sure you will perform your role adequately."

"Thanks Suref," he replied. Hajar was next, patting him on the shoulder with a smile.

"Thanks for the assist," she said.

Ro'Ad gave a big, toothy grin, which was a bit unsettling to humans but Andross knew the Gallamite was pleased.

"Couldn't wait for that blowhard to get what was coming to him," Ro'Ad said. Zira Zohnuld, a pretty green Orion woman, gave him a sensuous grin and wink.

"Well congrats, you just became interesting," she purred. At Hajar's elbow jab, she pouted. "I mean, good on you, sir."

"Thanks," Andross said. He looked over at Mychol, the little Tullian awkward. Keiko soon walked up to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"You did great!" She said happily. "Tell me, what do you know about a show called 'Macross'?"

"Nothing," the Tullian admitted. Keiko practically squealed.

"Then there's no time to lose! We must binge watch it immediately! Come on!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him off. Andross shook his head, glancing over at Suref as the rest of the squadron grinned or snickered.

"I'm kind of glad to have her attention off me," he said. Suref raised an eyebrow.

"I find that unlikely," he stated. Andross blinked, still smirking.

"Was… That a joke?" He asked. Suref raised both eyebrows and made a slight shrug.

"After a fashion, sir," he said.

Andross sighed, chuckling a bit. "I think we're going to get on fine, you and I. I say we get some drinks and help out poor Mychol. Do you agree?"

"You are squadron lead, after all," Suref said. Andross nodded to the rest of the pilots and officers, who turned and followed the energetic Japanese woman and the hapless Tullian. Suref paused a moment.

"I am sorry you were unsuccessful in your negotiations with Chakotay, sir."

Andross's smile faded. He looked out at the stars. He took a deep breath.

"So am I," he said.

_I made my choice… So did he._

He turned back to the Vulcan. "Well… Let's not keep them waiting."

"Yes sir," Suref replied.

"You know, you don't have to call me that," Andross pointed out as they made for the hangar bay doors. "We're off duty."

"Of course sir," Suref replied. Andross sighed, his fingers reaching up to his pips.

That damn Andorian: Did he always have to be right?

* * *

_**Maquis Base, The Badlands** _

_**2370** _

* * *

Mining equipment allowed you to make an asteroid livable, but not much more than that. The empty caves and tunnels were kept breathable by force fields, duracrete sealing, and hydroponics bays. The heat from the generators was moved through radiators and warming systems to keep the temperature above freezing. Ice was melted and filtered for water, for drinking or bathing and almost got the metallic flavor out of it. And artificial gravity nets made it possible to walk or float around as needed.

It was possible to live here, yes, Chakotay reflected. He had to admit though, it was a mean, barebones and desperate kind of life. Even the modest decor he'd added felt out of place in the drab surroundings, as he sat in his quarters and contemplated his medicine bundle.

It was the only thing he'd found intact among the ruins of his father's home on Trebus. His father Kolopak, the community shaman, sometimes leader, and teacher. The guide to so many, the intermediary between the living and spirit world and in navigating the tricky pitfalls of morality. A role Chakotay was expected to take, had been brought up to take. Yet Starfleet had called too strongly, and so he'd gone out among the stars. His father had never approved, and so they hadn't spoken. Hadn't reconciled, until the Cardassians had sent Kolopak off to the other side.

Chakotay wondered what his father would think of him now. Drawing on what he had rejected for strength, following his own path and rejecting the Starfleet and Federation he'd run away to.

Being a father and teacher to a young man he now had to call his enemy.

"You wanted to see me?" A proud female voice announced herself at the door. Chakotay looked up.

Seska was a Bajoran, but unlike many of the curvy members of the female half of that species she was skinny and slight. Ramrod straight, all angles, with cold, hard eyes. Yet this was a side she presented to everyone else: At times, she could be quite warm. He stood up, eyes locked on hers. A regenerative bandage pack was on her left arm, and another small one on her forehead.

"Who fired off the torpedoes?" He asked. "I explicitly ordered not to fire until my command."

Seska shrugged. "Maybe Paris panicked. The rest of the crew was killed when that plasma conduit blew."

"B'Elanna told me that conduit was secure," Chakotay stated evenly. Seska sighed, shaking her head.

"She's a decent engineer, Chakotay, and my friend… But let's be honest. Some days she couldn't identify shit with a tricorder," she stated bluntly. Chakotay scowled, but nodded. For all of her talent, the half-Klingon girl was very short tempered and easily frustrated. Things that easily led to mistakes.

"All right. After the conduit blew, what happened?"

Seska tensed mildly.

"I was separated from the cockpit," Seska said smoothly, her hands clasped tight behind her back. "I tried to raise Paris but he must have been knocked out at some point after he launched the torpedos: We got shook up so much I nearly broke an arm. I couldn't get past the plasma leak, and I don't think you'd have wanted me to risk the transporters."

"No," Chakotay admitted, and Seska nodded in affirmation. "But we lost Paris. They captured him. He was a good pilot."

"He was also an idiot, just in it to escape or to get back at his dear old dad," Seska snorted. "We can afford to lose someone with untrustworthy motives. And he didn't know anything important, so the Federation won't get anything out of him."

"I guess we'll have to see, won't we?" Chakotay sighed. He fixed Seska with a phasers beam thin look. "That said, if those torpedoes had hit-"

"If they did, that's thousands of fewer Cardassians around to rape, murder and pillage innocent worlds," Seska practically growled, her voice hard and bitter. Chakotay held back a sigh. He hated the Cardassian military for murdering his father. Seska had to live with their occupation murdering and destroying her homeworld for sixty years.

It was hard to have an argument on morality with that much pain. So he approached it differently.

"If they had, we'd lose any possible support we might have in the Federation," Chakotay pointed out. Seska snorted. "And we need that."

"You can't expect to fight this war without getting your hands dirty," Seska stated emphatically, her eyes locked onto his. Chakotay allowed himself a nod.

"Maybe. But there are lines I'm not willing to cross," he stated. Seska arched her brow.

"And if it comes down to us, or that boy you taught? Will you cross that line?"

Chakotay bit down an angry retort. He took a deep breath.

"It won't come to that," Chakotay said slowly. Seska huffed, walking up close to Chakotay.

"Are you sure?" She asked. Chakotay shook his head, that old protective feeling rising in him again.

"He's young and inexperienced. I taught him everything he knows-"

"And he managed to ruin our entire plan and disable most of our ships," Seska pointed out.

"He was holding back," Chakotay argued. "He was sentimental."

Seska glared.

"And you weren't?" She shot, striking true. Chakotay raised his hackles.

"The more people we kill, the harder it is to get support-!"

"Hang your support!" Seska growled back. "We're not running a public relations firm, Chakotay! He's a good pilot, and he's getting better all the time! Good enough that he might outclass you eventually." She took a deep breath. "Unless you nip him in the bud."

"I can't kill one of my own students, Seska," Chakotay retorted, the truth coming out at last. Seska glared back.

"He's not your student now, Chakotay! He's your enemy! We're your allies! Your friends!" She looked aside, and pressed her slim body against him. "Maybe… More than that," she said, her voice becoming warmer and less hostile. Chakotay hesitated a moment, before holding her back.

"Yes, you are," Chakotay said. "Do you trust me?"

Seska snorted. "What sort of question is-"

"Do. You. Trust me?" Chakotay asked. Seska sighed, nuzzling his broad chest.

"Of course I do," she said softly. "But this is bothering you. And it is a risk. And you appreciate honesty."

"I do," Chakotay admitted, his hands roaming her body. "So trust me when I say: It won't come to that. I can deal with him."

Seska sighed softly, nuzzling him back. "Then I suppose I have no choice but to take your word, hm?"

"That's all any of us have to go on," Chakotay admitted, leading her to the bed. Time to think about things other than their desperate circumstances.

Time to think about things other than the young man who'd tried so hard to reach out to him.

In the end, that was the only thing they had.

* * *

**_Outpost 444, Valo II, Bajoran Sector_ **

**_2370_ **

* * *

The full debriefing and report had only taken a few hours when they'd arrived back on Valo II: A bit rough but ultimately not as terrible as Andross thought it would be. A few hours of boredom was almost pleasant after the nerve wracking combat he'd been in. He was still exhausted, but no more than he'd been at the beginning.

Watching some of that Macross show had actually been pretty good, too. Though Keiko's excitement often gave away important plot twists and events. It hadn't been too bad of an experience.

One, maybe, that he could get used to.

So naturally, when he laid down to sleep, his communicator had to beep. He groaned softly, and reached out of his bed to tap the commbadge on his night table.

"Gotsschalk here."

"Lieutenant, Zira here," the pretty Orion spoke, sounding excited and nervous. "Sir, would you mind coming out to the hanger bay for a few minutes?"

Andross smothered a groan into his pillow. "Can't it wait until morning?"

"Ah, well, maybe sir… But um, since it's kind of important, could you please just come? It'll be really quick, I promise!" Zira insisted. Andross sighed, and rubbed his face. He took a deep breath.

"...Fine. Give me a few minutes," he acquiesced. He got up, pulled on a uniform, and headed out into the hallway. He took the stairs down to the lobby, and walked out onto the base proper. It was night, one of the planet's large moons glowing brightly overhead. Naturally, people were still at work: moving cargo in trucks, doing maintenance, or prepping shuttles and fighters. People who hadn't spent all day fighting their former friends and mentors in pitched battle.

Andross wondered if he would now envy them. The people who didn't have the same excitement in his life. Despite everything Andross had gone through, he didn't feel that. He didn't know what it meant.

He kept walking during this brooding, finally ending up at the large main hangar across from the living and administration annexes. He scanned the hangar and spotted a hint of bright green. There she was, Zira Zohnuld, proudly standing on the cradle gantry of his Peregrine. Master Chief Petty Officer Bein "Pops" Heucke was standing by her, the old Tellarite looking amused through his long white beard.

"Flight Officer, Pops," Andross said politely, as he walked up to the edge of the cradle his fighter was nestled in, "what's up?"

Zira spread her arms and posed like a gameshow girl, smile glinting in the light of the hanger lamps. "What do you think?" She chirped.

Andross walked around and up the ladder to the gantry, his eyes following Zira's arms. The bent part of the fighter's wing slowly came into view, but for a moment his sleep addled brain saw just darkness and a weird white scribble. He got up onto the gantry, looked down and his mind put it together.

Two large white femur bones, common to humanoids, were crossed underneath a rather plain looking humanoid skull. The fighter's ID number was printed underneath the bones on a bright yellow band across the wingtip, along with the squadron number and name:

477th Tactical Starfighter Squadron, the Jolly Rogers.

"... I'd almost forgotten," he admitted. Zira made a face.

"Yeah, can you believe it? They give us this cool name and cool symbol but we're not allowed to paint it onto our ships? Well, Amati didn't allow it."

"It's not technically against the regulations, thank the gods," Pops intoned. "The idiots running Starfleet didn't erase everything good about it."

Andross nodded. "And Macross…"

"That weird show reminded me," Zira admitted. "I looked through the database: Apparently the original squadron had livery like this from before the Romulan Wars. All our fighters did!"

Andross allowed himself a grin. "And you want to put it onto every ship in our squadron?" He asked.

"Yes!" Zira said cheerfully, bouncing in interesting ways. Ways he was too tried to appreciate, if he was honest.

"Without my permission," Andross pointed out. Zira paused, and her smile became awkward. Pops laughed hard, making the pretty Orion scowl at him.

"W-Well, I just assumed he'd be all right with it!" She insisted. "Especially this late at night-"

"You're kind of shit at this manipulating thing, for an Orion girl," Pops laughed. She flushed a darker green and scowled at him. She waved her hand, expressing her irritation.

"Usually it's not this hard!"

Andross was laughing too. It felt good.

"It's okay, it's okay!" He said. "I like it." He glanced over at Pops. "And I take it there's nothing to stop us from doing it to the rest of our fighters?"

Pops chuckled. "No. Shran's not going to object. And after this Maquis shavit, we need something to boost morale."

Yeah. Even though everyone had been tired, it was clear tensions were running high. Especially when Shran had to answer any questions about what he'd been up to during the mission. Apparently he'd been involved at something at the Bryma Colony, but nothing had come out. He couldn't imagine it was much better than his experience.

The prisoner they'd taken, Tom Paris, the disgraced son of the great Starfleet Admiral Paris, hadn't helped things either.

Andross nodded. "Then by all means, Zira: Get painting."

Zira beamed. "Yes sir!"

"After," he stated, making her pause, "you get some sleep."

Zira pouted. "I do my best work at night," she huffed.

"Not a surprise," Pops grunted. Zira threw a paintbrush at him, but the big Tellarite just laughed harder even as the paint spilled down the front of his uniform. He scooped up some and threw it back, splatting Zira's chest. She cried out in indignation. As Pops kept laughing though, she soon joined in. Andross went along because maybe he was damn tired… But he needed this. So did the squadron, if he was honest.

For a first order as a squadron leader? It wasn't too bad at all, in his opinion.

* * *


End file.
